Fragments of Fervor
by MsBBSue
Summary: Link, the name of a legendary hero. Just uttering the name sends people into a state of awe, engrossing their minds into adventurous tales about a boy fighting evil and rising above to prove that good reigns supreme even in the darkest of hours. Let this be a new tale... a new legend, one in which is filled with distant familiarity.
1. Chapter 1: A New Link

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Fair warning, this is the first time I've written something completely out of my mind...**

**As in, not following the story line of any of the games.**

**These are all original characters, though, many of them, as you will see, are based off characters in the series.**

**There is still a Link! Though, he goes by Kimble Link, Link being his surname.**

**Just warning to those who have just clicked this thinking it will be running on the basis of one of the many games. **

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Where the trees thin and the desert fades, when the rough lands of the mountains flatten and the fields of Hyrule grow deep and flat, there you will find the home of our great hero. Like all legends, ours is mixed with truth and fiction. One must decide what to believe and what to pass off as a child's bedtime story, even though, some of the truths in this legend sound as though they are fiction, and vice versa.

The ground was green and the skies were blue, and as for the weather, it was mildly cool, but warm enough for one to be comfortable in only a tunic and trouser. Our young hero stands with his people. He smiles proudly as they swoon and marvel him. What he has accomplished? Nothing yet, but due to his name and blood, he is already a chosen hero.

A young woman smiles bashfully as the young man winks at her. He loves the way her cheeks glow red with even the slightest bit of attention he gives her. Who is she? No one for now, after all with a legend comes mystery and twisted truths and forgotten facts.

"Kimble Link," an elderly man bellows loudly over the hustle and bustle of the people. The young man stands erect, ready to take on the task the elder has to offer. The villagers separate allowing the elderly man to approach the chosen hero. "It has been one hundred years since the last time your family name has been brought to glory. Are you prepared to reclaim the name and keep our great lands pure?"

Kimble Link nods with his eyes narrowed. This is what his grandfather prepared him for, this is what his aunts praised him for, and this is what his people expect him to do. His hands lay at his sides, and his feet are set shoulder width apart. Today, he is a man, not only by law, but by courage, by wisdom, and by power.

"Step forth, Kimble, son of Fadei, descendant of Hero Link, and child of Hyrule. Leader of the Feral Kokiri, do you take on the responsibilities your forefathers giveth thee?" the elder narrows his eyes. He leans on the cane he holds and cranes his neck out to the young man.

Kimble nods his head making his ash blonde hair untuck from behind his ears. He smiles bashfully and quickly pushes the hair back into place. "Yes, Elder Deku, I accept the responsibilities. I will protect our people as my father did before me. Our home shall be in our hearts, and where ever our feet guide us shall be where we take refuge. May our tribe thrive for the years I am chief, and for the years after when my sons own up to this title."

Elder Deku nods with a thin smile. He raises his cane and pats both of Kimble's shoulders with the stick and announces, "Let this day be recognized as the day our people rejoice and cherish Kimble Link for his honest, humble, and wholesome oath." The people around and cheer and clap. Kimble nods to them unsure whether he is ready for the challenges of being the leader of his people.

He steps down from the small platform he stands on and tries to leave the crowd with as much ease as possible. Kimble sighs as he enters his tent. The silky, green blanket that lies on his cot forms around his body as he tumbles into the mattress. He closes his eyes and smiles as the smell of burning incense fills his nostrils.

"Papa would be proud, Kimble," a sweetly caring voice coos. Kimble opens his eyes and sees his mother seated at the short table on a pillow seat to the far wall of the tent. "I guess I should be calling you Link now," she hums a laugh.

Kimble stands from his cot and sits across from his mother. Her beauty seems to be growing with her age. Thin lines cross her forehead that show a mother's worry, wrinkles crease the sides of her mouth revealing that once she was carefree, and pleats rest on the outsides of her eyes demonstrating that she never once passed off the opportunity to laugh and smile.

"You can still call me Kimble," he smiles placing a hand on hers. She gives a smile and closes her eyes. Her mouth drops and she lets out a painful, yet quiet, groan and tightens her grip on his hand. Kimble stands from his seat and rushes to her side, "Are the pains coming back, mama? Do you need me to retrieve Elder Deku?"

The mother shakes her head and releases Kimble's hand. She opens her eyes and gives him a weak smile. "Nothing to worry about, my son." She pats his hand. "This is your day, don't let me ruin it," she says in a gentle voice with an undertone of authority. She tucks her golden locks behind her ears and shakes her head. She clears her throat trying to rid the moment that had just happened. "Dear Nayru, what your father would have given to see this day." Her hands find their way to a mug. She raises the cup to her lips and sips back the warm liquid.

Kimble nods solemnly and sits back down. He takes his Phrygian hat off and lays it on the table. The young man then lowers his head in a silent prayer to his gods. 'May Din give her the strength to get by this pain, may Farore give her the care she needs, and may Naryu give her the wisdom to seek help from others.' He raises his head and looks into his mother's grey eyes.

"Why aren't you out celebrating with the others?" she questions, arching an eyebrow with the last word. "You are now the chief," she smiles, "go be with your people."

"Forgive me for wishing to spend this evening with my mother," the young man smiles with a sideways grin.

The woman shakes her head and stands from the short table. She turns to the small fireplace and swings the pothook over the flames. "You better not be here for worry's sake." She turns back to her son and waves a finger, "Elder Deku gave me some herbal tea. There is no need for you to keep an eye on me—," A loud bang interrupts her words. Her eyes widen. "What was that—," Again, another bang, now, followed by screams.

Kimble stands from the pillow seat and grips his mother's shoulders, "Stay inside." He turns to the tent's flap, but feels his mother following. "Stay, mama," he warns. "I'll come get you if we need to evacuate," he nods and then exits the tent.

The sky is no longer blue, but smudge with dark clouds. The ground underneath the hero's feet shakes with the thudding of horses' hooves. He turns quickly to the west, and what he sees would leave even the bravest of men in a state of horror and morbid awe.

Black stallions race towards his small, nomadic village. Women race to their children and scurry into their tents to retrieve their most precious valuables, men and boys alike ready themselves with blades and shields, ready for the mid-afternoon attack. Kimble races back into the tent; his face is drained from all colours.

"What is it?" his mother asks, frightened of what lay on the other side of the tent's walls.

He shakes his head and stomps through the tent with his legs stiff and buckled. He tosses a pack onto the short table. "Pack only what you can carry," he arches his neck as he hears another scream. "We're under attack." He then races out of the tent with a sword at hand. His boots stomp across the grass and lead him to a group of men.

"What do you wish to do, Link?" one of the men asks looking down at the young man.

Kimble shakes his head and for the moment, he resembles a lost child looking for his mother. A new scream pierces his ears and pulls him out of his shock. "Send all the women and children and Elder Deku off on the carriages. Have only the youngest and capable boys drive them. We need all the men we can get for this." Kimble looks to the west again, noticing the stallions only a quarter mile away. "Tell the men to arm themselves properly. I don't want to see our men fall."

Kimble then races off to gather the women and children. He leads them to four carriages. All of them in a matter of time become overflowing with flesh. Kimble looks at each franticly. His heart skips a beat as his mother's face has not yet been seen by him. He trots back to his tent, his mother on her knees with tears in her eyes.

"I can't find it!" she cries. Her hands wipe her tears as she pushes away fabric and cloth. "It was here—right here!"

"What are you looking for?" Kimble kneels down and looks at the pile of material. His mother stays silent, only her sniffles audible. "Mama, they're going to leave soon—,"

"I can't leave without it!" she hiccoughs. "It was the last artifact from the Kokiri before our people left them!"

Kimble nods knowing now what she searches for. He takes her hands and shakes his head, "I will find it for you." He jumps at a loud bang just outside of the tent. "You need to go with the others to Kakariko Village. I'll find the ocarina."

He helps her up gently and leads her quickly out of the tent. The black stallions now rage through the village; countless men lay on the ground wounded, others dead. Kimble helps his mother onto the carriage and kisses her on the forehead.

Before the horses rear up to charge away, his mother grips his hands, "Keep the goddesses close to your heart and may we meet again very soon." Kimble nods and in a flash, the women and children are gone. The young man turns and grips his blade tightly. Men holler in pain and boys cower huddled between tents.

"Come on, men!" Kimble growls, "Let us fight with pride!" He charges at one of the cloaked riders on a stallion and pierces his blade through their abdomen. He watches as the body falls and soon does the same to many others.

Blood seems to pour from the sky as Kimble Link slices, slashes, and lunges at the cloaked figures. Some would say the young man channelled his ancestors in order to fight. He attacks like a performer dances; gracefully and precisely. When the battle is over, his men stand side-by-side, joined in arms with their fellow brothers and heroic leader.

"Find the survivors, and if any need to be sent to the goddesses, bid them farewell," Kimble nods with a new sense of authority. The men soon leave his side, allowing him to take a closer look at their enemy.

He kneels to the ground and looks at the black cloak covering the slim figure before him. He removes the hood and gasps. Fire red hair dons the top of the enemy's head. A thin, fragile face looks back at him, and curves meant for childbearing lay before him. The enemy is a woman, but not just any woman, a Gerudo.

Kimble stands from the ground and races to another lifeless body. Could it be that his first triumphant battle was slaying women? He removes the hood and sure enough, another feminine face looks up to the sky. He pushes himself back and dry heaves. He tosses his tainted sword away and shakes his head.

"Check the enemy for life!" he hollers. The young man stands from the ground. "If any be breathing, help them," he bellows. He looks at all the fallen women, hoping, praying there be life still in them. His hopes and wishes wilt and die as he approaches more and more lifeless corpses.

Kimble shakes his head as he approaches a new body. He removes the hood and shakes his head with a deep frown. This woman isn't even old enough to be considered a woman. Her face carries a childish plumpness and her eyes are closed, resembling a sleeping porcelain doll. Kimble rests his hand on her forehead and silently prays for her to have safe travels to the heavens.

He removes his hands and lowers his head. Suddenly, a gasp for air hits his ears. He looks down at the child and startles as she coughs and spasms. He brings her arms above her shoulders so the air can properly enter her lungs, but she fights back, regardless of her injuries. She kicks and screams in a tongue unfamiliar to his ears. When all else fails her, she bits into his arm, sinking her teeth deep into his flesh.

Kimble Link quickly releases her to aid his new wound, and in the act the girl races off. As she races, she turns her head back to look at the hero, though; through her action she does not see the man before her holding his shield ready to smack her. She faces forward and crashes to the ground with a loud thud. Kimble races to her side and looks down at the starry eyed Gerudo.

"Quite the fast one isn't she?" the man asks with a dumb smile. Kimble nods once and puts his hands on his hips.

"Tie her up," he says with a sure voice. "When she is awake, perhaps we can get some answers out of her—,"

"Link, these women do not speak our language—,"

Kimble waves his hand to silence the man. He takes a breath. "If we cannot understand her, then surely someone else can." The man nods to his leader and whistles for more men to help. "Gather the men; we leave for Kakariko as soon as possible." Kimble then leaves to go and retrieve the ocarina his mother was so frantic to get.

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**I have to say, this story is making me pretty self conscious... I know it's a far cry from the other stories I've written.**

**Anyway, as always, reviews are much welcomed.**

**Have a nice day!**

**~MsBBSue**


	2. Chapter 2: What Are We?

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

The road is long and tiresome. Though, every moment after the small attack to the hero is long and tiresome. Something about having his blood race through his body and his heart hammer loud and proud against his chest seems to make time run fast and course over the much too tedious and smooth, safe and familiar tracks. He lowers the reigns in his hands and sighs.

His horse continues to trot on the path. The animal is bred to perfection, her fur a shining brown and white velvet, her muscles long and lean. Like the young heroes before Kimble, he named her Epona. Having no actual relation to the other horses, she is by far the most strong and fastest, though her own intellect is rather dull.

"Link," Kimble turns to see a man trot his horse next to his. He nods for the man to continue. "The girl, she's awakening—,"

"Is she well?" Kimble asks furrowing his eyebrows.

"From what we can tell; yes, so much so that she wishes to scream and holler as much as her heart desires." The man shakes his head, "I wish we could understand her… some of the words she speaks…" His dark eyes look to his leader. "Some of the words are said with such hate and vulgarity; you know she isn't talking about the beauty of the land and its people."

Kimble grins slightly. He sighs. "Should I pay a visit?" he shrugs. The man looks to Kimble blankly. "What should I do?"

"Something and fast," the man raises his eyebrows. "We're getting rather close to the village. The last thing we need is to enter the place with a screaming girl in the back of a wagon."

"Do we have any herbal tea for inducing sleep?" Kimble asks, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. The man shakes his head again. Kimble clears his throat before he speaks again, "Very well. Do you think it would do kindly if I go see her myself? Try to explain to her she is not a spoil of war?"

The man shrugs, "Do what you see fit, Link. This is your tribe to look after, not mine." The man for a moment bites his tongue. He tries his best not to spark the words from his mouth, but all his efforts go unrewarded as he opens his mouth to speak again. "I don't understand why you would wish to bring the Gerudo with us. She is an enemy—,"

"She is a girl—,"

"She is a girl who tried to kill us!" the man's eyes widen.

Kimble presses his lips together. His eyes narrow. "If it were your daughter fighting, would your opinion be the same, Kaepora?" the young man questions with an emotionless face.

The man ruffles his brown hair and argues, "Our women have not been trained in battle. It is unfair for you to compare the Gerudos with our Feral Kokiri women."

Kimble narrows his eyes at the man. The young man licks his lips and nods, "Lead the rest of the way. If anyone should need me, tell them I am with the _enemy_ and not to disturb." Kaepora rolls his eyes and continues to keep his horse riding on the path.

Kimble makes his way hastily to the wagon at the end of the line. Even from several metres away he can hear the howls and screams from the girl inside. He dismounts his horse and ties Epona's reigns to the back of the wagon. He takes a running start and jumps onto the lip on the side of the wagon.

The coachman turns his head, surprised with the new weight, but smiles it off as he sees his young leader nod to him. Kimble opens the door to the small trailer and peers inside. It is dark, but the screams make the air inside chilling and unforgettable. The hollers of the Gerudo silence as her ears hear the door open. Her golden eyes watch Kimble for a moment, ever so vigilant. He keeps his eyes on the girl, and slowly backs up to the small bench across from her. Suddenly, the girl begins to speak, every word escaping her lips tangled together, her voice's pitch rising and falling like a sad song. Kimble shakes his head, but the girl, unbeknownst to his misunderstandings, continues to speak, faster and more pleadingly.

"I cannot understand you," he speaks over her. The Gerudo inverts her eyebrows and shakes her head in confusion. "I cannot understand you," he repeats quietly as her voice ceases. "Do you understand Hylian?" The young girl shifts uncomfortably. Her eyes are wide with fear and curiosity. "What is your name?" Kimble says slowly, hoping to have her understand.

The girl shakes her head, whether out of refusal or confusion, it is unclear to the hero. She crosses her legs and folds her arms. "Naborin," she says, rolling the r.

Kimble raises his chin and arches an eyebrow. "Naborin?" he asks pointing to her. She nods. "I am Kimble—Link," he corrects himself. She makes a face. "My name is Kimble, but my people call me Link." Again, she inverts her eyebrows. "Link," he points to himself once more.

The girl's eyes narrow and then her mouth opens again. The words are incoherent. All of them are bunched together, creating another song. The words grow in volume, and Kimble clamps his hands over his ears as Naborin spits and hissing in hate. He approaches the girl and she now begins to scream in fear and panic. The hero covers her mouth with the palm of his hand and holds the back of her head.

"You need to calm down," he says over her muffled mewling. "Stops screaming," he sternly growls. The girl continues her whimpering. Kimble unclamps his hands and then she screams and hollers more. Frustrated, Kimble yells and hollers his own gibberish.

Shocked, Naborin's mouth loosely hangs and her eyes widen. Kimble keeps yelling until his face is red and his breath will no longer carry out his voice. Naborin tightens her jaw and grips his shoulders. "Link," her eyes look into his. She brings her index finger to her mouth and quietly hushes, "Shh."

Taken aback by her, Link nods in compliance. He then points to her, "Naborin, shh," he brings his finger to his lips mimicking her action before. She nods and settles her breathing. Kimble relaxes his shoulders and speaks in a calm tone, "We are going to Kakariko Village." He shakes his head, "We will not be going to Gerudo Valley—,"

The girl shakes her head rapidly and pushes him away. With the little Hylian she understands, she knows what he has said. "Home," she whimpers with tears beading in her eyes. Kimble shakes his head. "Home," she cries out more aggressively.

"No," Kimble shakes his head again, "Kakariko Village."

Had it not been for her small fists pummeling him, he would have stayed and tried to calm her down. He rushes out of the door and sits beside the coachman. New screams and hollers escape the trailer now, ones filled with hurt, terror, and fear.

"Don't worry, we'll find a translator sometime soon," the coachman smiles turning his head to Kimble but keeping his eyes on the path. Kimble nods and sighs. He keels over his knees and holds his head. The coachman puts a caring hand on his back and pats soothingly. "Don't worry yourself. Everything will be fine."

Kimble raises his head and see the entrance to Kakariko. He shakes his head and shudders as Naborin screams and cries from within. "No chance of her silencing before we enter, is there, Beed?" Kimble smiles weakly.

The coachman responds with a silky soft voice, "Fear of the unknown is powerful; one cannot expect her to gain courage so soon. Some of us are not children of heroes," Beed hums a laugh. "If she screams, let her. Unlike you and I, she has no one with her to comfort her in her own tongue." Kimble nods and takes a deep breath as the wagon makes its way into the village.

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Over the many houses and north to Kakariko Village lays a graveyard. Men and women alike stand in one single line in front of their leader. They all carry the same ghostly white hair and the women have pale skin purer than virgin snow. Their ancestors once bore airy red eyes, but now, all share the same almond shaped baby blues. The women pin their hair back while the men hide theirs in wraps of white linen.

"What are you?"

"Sheikah descendants," every man and woman hollers back in unison to their officer. Their backs are straighter than arrows and their hands are behind them cupped in one another, making their shoulders stiffen and chests puff out.

"What is your purpose?" the leader yells back.

"To serve and protect the Hylian Royal Family, to honor Impa's words and keep the promise her people gave to them."

The leader nods with a smile. She has trained them well. She relaxes her stance and marches down the line. She grips her belt and nods at each person she passes for them to leave the line and continue on with their afternoon. She nods to all, except one. She only narrows her eyes at the lone Sheikah and passes him. When all are gone, she approaches him.

"Do you know why I've kept you behind?" she asks, raising her jaw making her neck stretch out with superiority.

"I don't know, Impaz," the young man shrugs looking down at her. "Perhaps it is because you feel it necessary to make your brother feel inferior because our father chose you and not me," he arches an eyebrow.

Impaz narrows her eyes and shakes her head. "Jericho, I kept you behind because you were lacking—,"

"Lacking in what," the young man makes a face of disbelief. "In my chants," he shrugs, "in my posture?" He shakes his head pulling the material from around his mouth with fury, "Please, Impaz, pray tell." His sky blue eyes narrow, "Oh, great leader of the Fallen Sheikah, tell me what I could have possibly done to keep me from going back to my duties—,"

An open palm slaps his cheek, making a red blotch form on his cheek. Jericho brings his hand up and cups the red, risen welt. Impaz straightens her back and flatten out the wrinkles on her cropped pants. She combs her hands back in her hair, laying her fly aways back down. For a Sheikah to show such violence—even to one's own sibling is unheard of. Jericho looks down at his sister with hurt and shame.

"Your amount of disrespect is what made me hold you back." Impaz keeps her eyes set past her brother, trying to avoid looking at him. "The king wishes to call onto our people once more. Her grace has given birth to a new son." Jericho nods half interested. "He wished for someone with a direct link of heritage to Impa. As you and I both know, that would be the two of us." Jericho raises his eyebrows trying to hide the smirk growing on his face. "I am already occupied with their first and third child, so the only option would be for you to step up and take on that responsibility." Impaz furrows her eyebrows and narrows her eyes with warning, "This is by no means giving you the right to goof off, understand?"

"You mean I actually get to leave this place and look after a Royal Blood?" Jericho looks down at the young woman. Impaz raises her eyes to him and nods. "Sweet Farore," the young man jumps up with excitement. "When do I leave? H—how do I get there?" His eyes look down at his sister with wild and untamed enthusiasm.

"Settle down, Jericho," she smiles putting her hands on his shoulders to hold him still. "We leave tomorrow at dawn—,"

"_We_," the young Sheikah makes a face.

"Yes, _we_," Impaz nods with a smile. "The others wish to have a small celebration for you. This is a big day in a Fallen Sheikah's life."

"Where will it be held?" Jericho shrugs with a smile filled with jittery laughs.

"Kakariko," Impaz says. Her brother shakes his head with confusion. "We will be celebrating in Impa's house," she nods trying to cure her brother from the dithering thoughts. "Come on, they should be ready for you now—,"

"You mean it was a surprise?" Jericho stops, pulling his sister back. Impaz smirks slightly and shrugs. "Now it's ruined—,"

"You're a good actor, Jericho, pretend you're surprised." She then leads him by his hand out of the graveyard and into the village. As they follow the path, the sounds of crying children and frantic mothers fill the air. Impaz turns to her brother cocking her head and then continues after he shrugs.

When they get out from behind the houses, they see the source of the noise. "What happened here?" Jericho catches his thoughts becoming audible.

"I don't know," Impaz says in a hushed tone. They stand together watching the people move throughout the village, searching for a place to find refuge. Impaz shakes her head, "Best we find out, eh?"

Jericho nods and the two then trek out into the opening. Something one must know about the Fallen Sheikah is that they are very curious beings. When something is strange and unusual, they do their best to understand the cause of the unfamiliarity. As curious as they were, they were still cautious, some would say overly careful. With Jericho and Impaz being great examples of their people, they could fight their curiosity, though; sooner or later it would get the better of them.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Impaz charges through the crowd. Her voice is like a knife cutting the thick air. No one answers her, so she repeats, "What is the meaning of all this?" Her ancient red eyes look up to the women for an explanation.

"We were under attack," one woman calls out. Impaz eyes search out for the lady, but do not succeed in finding her.

"Who are you people?" Jericho calls out, hoping his gender would give him the upper hand rather than Impaz.

"Feral Kokiri," another call hits their ears. Her turns and sees a woman with deep green hair and forest green eyes looking up at him.

"What gave you the right to come here?" Impaz questions with an intimidating voice.

The woman shrinks visibly as Impaz looks at her. "There was once a bond between our people, Fallen Sheikah—,"

"That was between the Sheikah and the Kokiri—,"

"What's the difference?" asks the Feral Kokiri with wounded eyes and a burning heart.

Jericho huffs a breath out and shakes his head. He knows Impaz will explain in great detail, so he takes the lead. "We are Fallen Sheikah and you are Feral Kokiri. There is no bond between us, only our ancestors."

"Surely you can find it in your heart to have us stay the night," the woman's green eyes widen. Impaz keeps her face emotionless and her mind far out, past the mountain the Gorons' claimed as theirs so many centuries ago.

Jericho nudges her side for her to answer. Impaz sways slightly and sighs. "One night," she pierces her eyes on the woman. "You and your people may stay the night, but by dawn you must leave." The Fallen Sheikah crosses her arms. "You're people are probably safer in Castle Town than here. If you wish for an escort, I and Jericho," she waves her hand to her brother, "will be leaving at first light."

"Thank you," the woman smiles, "thank you. The goddesses are smiling down on you today—,"

"Obviously you haven't spent enough time here in Kakariko to say such a thing, Feral." Impaz points to a small house, "We have a low amount of food. Only the children and the nursing mothers may eat. There are no extra beds, so your people will have to make refuge on the grounds."

"Quite alright," the woman nearly whispers.

Impaz nods and walks away with no more care than a cat for a bath. Jericho chases after her with disagreement written all over his face.

"We have plenty of food to spare, Impaz!" he growls grabbing her wrist. Impaz shakes him off. "Father would be very disappointed in you."

"I am here to only look after our people and the residents of the village—not drifters!" she hollers back at him. Suddenly, a scream pierces the air. The scream is filled with pain—not physical, but emotional. A pain so deep that only one who has suffered it can know. The scream sounds off again, like a bell sounds for war.

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**Thanks for the four reviews on the first chapter! **

**I hope you all enjoyed this one as much as you did the first.**

**Yes... I know the chapter is very long...**

**Again, reviews are much welcomed!**


	3. Chapter 3: Softer Side of Things

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

* * *

**Fragments of Fervor**

The Gerudos were once a thriving tribe—filled with powerful and fearless women. They would take it onto themselves to provide for their fellow sisters, regardless of who may be leading them. It wasn't until their third century of independence that a new king was born—one who took what he had for granted.

He would patronize them, and lead them with false hopes of a utopia in order for them to do as he wished. A con artist he was, and he used his false words and great reputation to invade the country his people once hailed from.

The king took on allegiance with the Hylian King, gained trust and ultimately destroyed all that was once Hyrule. All attempts the people made to rid this Gerudo from their lands proved useless. It took one lone boy with a bountiful of courage to overthrow the man. His attacks were seen as inferior and unaffected to the evil king, but eventually, the boy gained strength and wisdom. He took everything that he had and destroyed the king and saved Hyrule.

Throughout history, there have been countless stories of a boy cloaked in green saving the land and its people, but all have one thing that remained constant; the boy was always dubbed the name Link. Though it was he who was the savior, he wouldn't have been capable of doing so had he not had the help of several people.

The Sheikah helped him; the Gorons did too, along with the Hylians, Zoras, and Kokiri. There was one tribe that helped, but their help was overlooked, for they were the Gerudo. It was Nabooru who turned out to be one of the seven sages of the last strike and story of the hero. With her knowledge of the desert, she helped the young hero defeat Twinrova. Long since her passing, the people have forgotten the good the Gerudos had once done, and only remembered the bad, the terrible, the evil that the desert people plagued them with, Ganondorf.

So their reputation went from golden to sour and thusly, so did their women. Rather than the raids to help get by with the seasons, they would attack, kill and avenge their people's name. Only in the last twenty years had the Gerudos become a force to be reckoned with. With their anger and hatred reaching a fever pitch, the people of Hyrule saw it fit to worry about a new evil invading their lands, an evil even greater than the Dark Lord Ganondorf.

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Jericho turns quickly at the fourth ear shattering scream. Impaz is already gone. She left his side during the second; afraid it was one of their people. He feels his legs tremble slightly under him. Even at the age of fourteen, his fears still render him useless. Impaz had told him to cover his ears, but that only muffled the hollers turning them into a sort of pillow-hushed growl.

Jericho slowly makes his way to the edge of the building that blocks his view to see where the screams are originating from. He keeps his eyelids tightly closed until he has built up enough courage to peel them back. He sees a young girl rolling around in the grass. Her mouth opens and closes but somehow the noise she belts out does not cease. Jericho makes his way slowly to the crowd around her; three men and Impaz.

Just as he approaches the group, Impaz storms off in a fit of rage. Jericho knows better than to follow her, so he stays with the strange men. He watches them; their strange green and wonted golden hair, their large, green eyes—some of course with blue, and their short stature—though not child height, but still relatively short.

"What do we do, Link?" one man questions with a shrug. Jericho's eyes bulge at the name. He has only been told stories of the boy named _Link_; it would be a child's fantasy to meet the actual person.

"You heard the lady, we have to either get _her_ to stop screaming, or we all leave." Jericho sees a young man donning a green tunic and white trousers. Could it truly be the hero? "Maybe feed her, she could be hungry—,"

The first man shakes his head, "We don't have any food—,"

"I have food," Jericho blurts. He covers his clothed mouth as the words pour from him. Though eager to help, for him to speak out to someone not affiliated with the Fallen Sheikah is frowned upon.

The young man in green sets his gaze on him. "Are you willing to help, Sheikah?" he inquires with arched eyebrows.

"More than gladly, hero," Jericho pulls the cloth down from his mouth to show his smile.

"_Hero_?" one of the men jeers.

The one called Link gives out a glare to the man. He then nods, "Very well." He sticks his hand out, "My name is Kimble Link."

"Jericho—at your service," the young Sheikah falls to a knee in an awkward sort of bow. Kimble gives a chuckle and shakes his head trying to raise the boy from his knee. With a troubled face, Jericho looks up, "Is it truly time for a new hero already?"

Kimble nudges another man as he laughs. Kimble shakes his head to the boy, "No, not a hero—,"

The same man who laughed buds in, "Not yet,"

Kimble pushes the man off. "Just looking for refuge," he smiles to the Sheikah. "Now what was that about food?"

"Oh—yes," Jericho smiles bashfully. He straightens out his traditional Sheikah wear and nods. "My house is just over there—," he points to a small, modest house, "—I'm busy at the moment, so perhaps a bit later in the night would be good for you to bring her my way—,"

"I don't mean to sound rude, but we don't seem to have much time given as to what that girl had to say." Kimble nods his head off in the direction of Impaz.

"Ah," Jericho laughs, "you mean Impaz—don't mind her, she's just a silly, old prude. She takes her position too seriously. Um—," he spins around looking at the village; "I'll go and talk to her, try to keep her mind off things. Just get yourselves settled in and I will be back later on." He nods and Kimble smiles with a head bow.

The Fallen Sheikah then races off to the trail his sister blazed moments before. He knows where it leads, for she goes there often when things go awry. He passes a large house and climbs a ladder intertwined with ivy. As he gets to the top, he can already see his sister sitting on the rocks at the top.

"Impaz," he sighs, dusting himself free from leafs that caught on him as he climbed.

She keeps her back to him. "We need to find a new village… this one will not be safe for much longer."

Jericho climbs up the rocks and sits beside her. "What makes you say that?" he turns to her as she looks to the low ground of Kakariko.

"I have a feeling," she shakes her head. "Something isn't right, Jericho." She moves her feet so they rest on a rock in front of them. "Before father passed, he said that if I ever feel like Kakariko is in danger, I should move the people away… but I don't know how to do that. _Our_ people listen to me… but," she shakes her head and looks up to her brother, "the others would rather hear it from their own, not a Fallen Sheikah."

Jericho presses his lips together and looks to the sky. "It may _seem_ like they don't want to listen to you, but I know they listen to your words like they are the goddesses' own." Impaz shakes her head with a humored laugh. "No," Jericho nudges her side, "really." The young woman arches an eyebrow and smiles. "When you told them that they needed to plant more crops for the long winter, they did it—,"

"Out of fear," she chuckles.

"No," Jericho shakes his head. "They did it because—even though you are young—they know you are right. You are wise, Impaz, much more so than any other person here in the village." He places an arm around her shoulders, "If you tell them, they _will_ listen."

Impaz wipes her nose, trying to hide her watery eyes. "Father should have made you the head of our people—or at least the head of the village," she looks out to the small town and sighs.

"Father chose you for a reason, Impaz, it's really not that hard to see why," Jericho smiles taking his arm back. He looks down at his pint sized sister, "You're smart, bold, and you demand respect."

Impaz smiles and begins to push herself off the rock she sits on. She plants her hands on her hips and takes a deep breath of air. "What do you think of the Feral Kokiri, Jericho? Should they and the screaming Gerudo stay, or go?"

"It is only one night, Impaz," Jericho shakes his head. "You said it yourself; we will lead them in the morning to Castle Town."

Impaz nods. "Alright," she takes a few brisk steps to the ledge of the small cliff and turns back to her brother. "You have a celebration to get to," she points to him with a smile. The young man shoots off the rocks with a new found energy. "Come on, let's go. They'll be wondering what's been taking so long," she laughs. Impaz then leaps off the ledge and dives into the air. Jericho follows her and like birds, they swoop in the sky and fall gracefully to the ground.

Jericho bends at one knee to lower the impact as Impaz only plants a hand down to keep herself from falling over with the momentum of the jump. She straightens and turns back to her brother. They then both begin to make their way to the treasured oasis of Impa's House.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay of this chapter, there will be one up for tomorrow (July 31, 2011)**

**... Felt the need to put the date...**

**Anyway, please enjoy!**

**As always, reviews are welcomed!**


	4. Chapter 4: Choice

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

* * *

**Sorry for the date mix up last chapter... I totally meant for it to be 2012, not 2011...**

**Apparently I am stuck in the past xD**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

She rolls, she kicks, she spits and she cries. If she had the words, she would tell them that she needed to go home, that her sisters needed her. She thrashes as one of the men pick her up from the ground. Her scarlet hair, once tied back in a tight ponytail is now lifeless, low and tangled with yellowed grass. She lets out another scream and throws her small fists into the man's back.

"Naborin," the girl's amber eyes shoot to a familiar face, the young man with blue eyes and blonde hair. He smiles as her eyes set on him. "We're going to set a tent. If you behave, you may wander with my mother," he nods throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a strange woman.

She keeps her eyes on him, even if she only sees his words as drivel, she watching even as the man who carries her swings her over his shoulder and back to the ground. Her hands are tied in front of her, her ankles bounded by thick rope, had she put in the effort, she could have slipped her feet out of the knots.

She brings her knees to her chest as she watches curiously as the men hoist a pole and material high above. Had Naborin had the words, she would have questioned why they use such strange homes to stay in. The young Gerudo hears music and laughter from a far. She turns to see one of the houses still lit up and shadows dance in the curtains.

Naborin wraps her arms around her knees and sighs. There would have been a celebration like that for her had she gone back to the fortress. There would have been wine, roasts, and little girls wearing only their best harem pants and cropped tops. The women would have worn elegant robes and braided their hair. Naborin would have been lifted in a chair and carried to all of the events surrounding her first raid's celebration.

The Gerudo examines a hole in the knee of her harem pants. She would have been given a new outfit as well. She closes her eyes for a moment as the realization settles in. She may never see her sisters again, at least, not any time soon. They could think her dead before she sets foot back on the sands of the desert.

"One more tent and then you may walk with me," a woman smiles sitting beside the girl. Her knees crack as she lowers herself. Naborin's eyes look into the woman's and then she looks back to the grass. "My name is Naomi," she smiles softly. "Naborin, is it?" she places a hand on the Gerudo's shoulder. Naborin flinches and pulls away.

"It would be much easier if you could understand us, wouldn't it?" Naomi frowns. "Perhaps on our walk we will visit Elder Deku… he may have some kind of elixir for that." The hero's mother looks to the men and sighs, "I feel like I'm talking to myself. Silly, isn't it?" She shakes her head. "I can't imagine how you feel… you must be lonely." Naborin's golden eyes look off into a fire nearby.

"Mama," Kimble comes into their sight.

"Yes, Link," she nods looking up at her son.

Kimble rubs his hands on his trousers and nods, "Everything is done. If you're still up to walking her, now would be a good time—before it gets too late. One of the Fallen Sheikah will be coming down."

"Alright," Naomi nods pushing herself off the ground. Kimble quickly brings his hands to her to help her to her feet. When she stands, she turns back to the Gerudo. "Remove her ropes," she orders with a gentle voice. Kimble nods and loosens the knots and pulls the rope from her ankles. "And the hands," Naomi points.

"Mama, I can't do that—,"

"Kimble, listen to me," she arches an eyebrow. "I don't know about you, but when I walk I move my arms. If I was her, I would find it rather uncomfortable to walk with my hands tied in front of me. Now do as I ask, please." Kimble sighs and does as he is told. "There," Naomi smiles looking at the girl. She holds a hand out and the girl takes it after hesitating.

"How long will your walk be, mama," Kimble Link shrugs.

Naomi raises her eyebrows, "As long as I see fit. Now be gone." Kimble, even though being the chief, listens to his mother, disregarding his own position. She was, after all, the late chief's wife, a grand position in the small nomadic tribe.

Naomi and Naborin then begin their walk. The girl follows the woman cautiously, ever watchful of each and every one of Naomi's moves. As they climb up a hill, Naomi stumbles slightly. Naborin sees the struggle and quickly wraps an arm around the woman's waist. Naomi looks down at the girl, surprised with the Gerudo's aid. She nods and pats the girl to let her go.

Soon, they climb down the other end and stand before the entrance of the village. Naomi turns to the girl and sighs. She pushes her long, golden hair away from her face as the wind blows. "If you wish to leave, then you may," Naomi nods to the girl. Naborin takes a step forward as if she understood and then turns back to the woman. "Just know that if you do, there will be no one looking for you. You have to be sure of where you came from… or else you will be dead before morning, Naborin."

The Gerudo crosses her arms and takes a breath. She furrows her eyebrows and lets the one of the only words she knows out, "Home."

"Yes," Naomi nods, "home." She takes a step back to the girl's side and put her hand on her shoulder, "If you do not make it, death will be calling for you." The girl's eyes lock with hers. "Do you understand?" Still no answer from the girl, only blank stares and shifting feet. "Follow me if you wish. I will not be looking back and therefore not know where you are going if you do leave… nor do I wish to know." She takes a deep breath and begins to walk back the way they came.

Naborin stands, knowing there is only a mere twenty feet between her and freedom. She may not understand their language, but she does understand tone. Something about the woman's voice made her stomach flip and skin gain goose pimples.

The girl takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Weighing her options, she thinks long and hard. Go back with the people holding her captive or leave and try her best to get back to her homeland? She opens her eyes and watches as the woman gets further and further away. Something in her heart tells her to go home, but then a much larger part tell her to stay, that she will be in better use here with these people. She nods and races towards the woman. Her silent footsteps keep Naomi from turning back. When her hand wraps around Naomi's wrist the older woman lets out a shriek. Naomi looks down to see the Gerudo girl beaming a smile up at her.

"Alright," she smiles patting the girl's hand. "Let's get to Elder Deku's tent."

They enter the old man's tent after lifting multiple tent flaps and leaving. He sits on a pillow seat smoking a long pipe. Naborin sees the man and is immediately reminded of stories about wizards and sorcerers. She grips Naomi's hand tightly as the walk further into the tent.

"Naomi," the old man smiles, "what bring you here?"

Naomi sits on a new pillow seat. "Your smiling face," she laughs. The old man chuckles and blows smoke out of his mouth.

"And who is this exotic woman?" he raises his jaw to Naborin. The girl quickly hides behind Naomi in fright, but the woman pulls the girl out gently.

"All we know is that her name is Naborin… she speaks virtually no Hylian, and the only word I have heard from her is 'home'." Naomi pulls the girl down to a seat next to her. "I was wonder, Elder Deku, if you had any sort of elixir that could make her coherent to our ears and make our language understandable to her."

"Ah, Naomi, you're not looking for an elixir, you're looking for a potion," the old man rises from his seat and makes his way to a small pack across the tent from them. He scratches his bold head and sighs. "The only thing I can think of is this," he holds up a small vile filled with a silver liquid.

Naomi looks at it with narrowed eyes and parted lips. She has never seen anything quite like it. "It looks like melted metal," she states as he places it on the table between them.

"Yes," he nods watching the candle's flame play up the silver flakes. "It is dangerous in large quantities. I was saving it for Kimble—Link…" he sighs. "But I do not think he will ever need it."

"What does it do?" Naomi asks as Naborin lowers her chin on the table.

Elder Deku shrugs, "It allows the drinker to understand every and all tongue they come across… but that is all I know."

Naomi takes a breath. "Are you willing to give it to the young Gerudo then?"

"Who else," the old man laughs. "It's not like _we_ are the ones surrounded by strange beings." He pulls the cork from the vile and holds it to Naborin's lips. She shakes her head and pushes away almost making the liquid fall to the table.

"Here," Naomi pulls the vile out of his hand, "let me try." She does the same, holds the vile to Naborin's lips and waits. The girl doesn't push it away this time, but nor does she drink it. Naomi sighs and lowers the vile to the table. Suddenly, she takes the vile and sips down a small quantity of the liquid. She makes a face closes her eyes.

Naomi then turns to the girl, "Drink this and you will be able to understand us." Shocked, the young girl's jaw drops. The woman before her is speaking perfect Gerudo tongue.

"I understand you now," Naborin says in a quiet voice.

Naomi smiles at the girl. She shakes her head, "If you drink this you will be able to understand everyone here. I only drank some to be able to speak with you—don't you wish to talk to other people? Have your thoughts become verbal and be able to tell us what you need and want?"

Naborin licks her lips and looks down at the vile. She narrows her eyes, tempted to down the liquid. She then darts her eyes to Naomi, "How does it taste?"

The older woman smiles softly, "Fine, now drink it."

Naborin nods and lifts the vile. She then presses her lips to the smooth glass and drinks the contents. As she lowers the glass she mimics a similar face Naomi made before. She then sticks her tongue out, "That tasted worse than leevers!"

Elder Deku raises his white, long eyebrows and releases a relieved laugh. The potion worked, now it is time to get some answers.

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**Sorry for the rather dry chapter... I didn't want to get into anything else with this one**

**Just going to put this out there: If you've read this far, why not leave a review?**

**What could it hurt? I humour you, why not you humour me back? lol**

* * *

**Anyway, as always, reviews are welcomed... and MUCH apprieciated.**

**Let me know how you like it or if you don't, just... let me know lol**


	5. Chapter 5: Merely Legend

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

* * *

**Sorry for the five ****(I think) ****day delay on this chapter!**

**Some things came up**

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**Without further boring, here's chapter five!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Kimble sits on the grass watching as mothers coo their children and lead them like sheep into tents for sleep. Tonight is proving to be much longer than anticipated. He grips the grass under him and pulls it out in clumps. The moon is now high and there has been no sign of his mother or the Fallen Sheikah. The young man takes a deep breath and thinks about his grandfather and the stories he used to share with him.

"_My father was once a great hero to all of Hyrule, Kimble_," He used to start out. Kimble would nod with an interested look on his face and a light smile. "_He was the one who took down the Evil King_," the old man would raise his eyebrows, waiting for the boy to lean forward or ask a question to reassure his intrigue. "_There was once a Zora who fancied him… tried to get him to marry her, she did!_" he would laugh. "_When he had to collect the Spiritual Stones for the young princess, the Zora—Ruto, I believe her name was—gave him it as a means of a proposal. The two were only eight or so, but she found his bravery something wonderful._" The old man would continue, "_When he was older and had to defeat the evil inside of the Water Temple, she found him—and boy was she upset with him!_"

"_Why would she be upset?_" Kimble would ask.

"_Because she gave him the stone so many years ago thinking he would take her hand in marriage when the time was right—and if there is one thing you need to know about women, Kimble, it's that their wrath is worse than anything you could imagine. Never promise a woman something when you have no intentions of keeping it,_" His grandfather would warn and then continue to tell him how the man made his way through the treacherous temple; cursing the architecture, and fighting his duplicate.

That was a story Kimble loved, when Link, the great Hero of Time, would fight Dark Link—his counterpart. The copy was just as capable as him; he even mirrored the same attacks. It took Link much time to figure out his own weakness—but that was the point of the battle. "_In order for one to better themselves, they must first find out what they need to improve—then, and only then, may they proceed to ready themselves,_" his grandfather would smile after finishing the battle story.

Kimble opens his eyes as a deep pain stings his heart. He shakes his head, already knowing what the pain is from. His grandfather had passed nearly three years ago, but still, he felt the hole it left him with. He ruffles his hair and stands from the ground. He hears laughter and muffled voices, surprisingly, they are close by.

Kimble walks a little away from the camp and around a small house. The laughter is louder. He peeks around the back of the house and sees Naomi and Naborin sitting on the grass giggling like little girls at a party. He straightens and makes his way out from behind the house's wall. Naomi's eyes shift to him as she smiles. She then looks back to the young Gerudo.

"We have a visitor," Naomi nods his way and the girl turns after a laugh. Naborin's laughter dies and her smile disappears. Kimble Link then realizes he is not a welcomed visitor, but more of an intruder to their small conversation. "Don't be nervous, girl," Naomi places a hand on the stiffened shoulders of Naborin.

"This is your son?" she turns back to Naomi with inverted eyebrows. Kimble's eyes bulge as her words hit his ears. She speaks Hylian; there is no twang, no mispronunciations, not even a stumble on the words. He steps forward, eager to hear more of the girl's words.

"Yes," Naomi nods. She tosses her golden hair gracefully over her shoulders.

"Link is your son?" the girl repeats the same question rephrased in disbelief. Naomi nods again. Naborin turns back to Kimble and watches as he sits on the grass beside his mother. "You are very lucky to have such a kind mother, Link," she says with a small grin.

Kimble nods dumfounded. He crosses his legs and nods again, "Yes, I am."

Naborin reaches forward and grabs Naomi's wrist. "You have such pretty jewelry, Naomi," she says as she examines the woman's bracelet, almost ignoring Kimble's presence all together. "In the fortress, we're not allowed to wear such things… only for special occasions, like when the king has a celebration—or when one of the girls has finished their first raid." Her golden eyes flash as the jewels catch the moonlight.

Naomi smiles and opens her mouth to speak, but Kimble cuts her off. "Why did you attack our village?" Kimble leans forward, watching the Gerudo.

Naborin arches an eyebrow at his question and she gently drops Naomi's wrist. Her eyes then lazily set on Kimble. "_I_ didn't attack, it was the other women," she says before a yawn. She stretches her arms over her head and grunts with the stretch.

"Why did _they_ attack?" he corrects himself.

Naborin sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "Our king told them to head to Castle Town, and if we come in contact with anyone other than the residents of Castle Town to not think twice as to attack. He said that they would attack first, regardless of our efforts to stop them," her eyes leave him and fall onto Naomi's anklet. She fingers it gently, spinning the beads. "I was only in it for the bounty," she whispers softly.

"So your king forced your people to attack—,"

"No," Naborin turns her head back to Kimble, "your people forced us to attack."

Kimble shakes his head, "We wouldn't have had your people told us the purpose of your stampeding—,"

"You didn't even give us the chance to explain ourselves, now did you?" Naborin raises her eyebrows and Kimble lowers her head. "Our king was correct, either way. He was only looking out for us. He knows a lot about the Hylians," she says and then the corners of her mouth dimples inward in a sort of haughty grin.

Naomi watches as her son nods with a look on his face that reminded her of when he was young and in trouble. The woman clears her throat and looks to Naborin. "What is your king's name, if I may ask?"

"Of course you may ask, Naomi," the girl smiles resettling in the grass so that her legs are flat out in front of her and her arms loosely beside her, hands resting on the grass. "His formal name is King Ganondorf Doyle Dragmire," she nods with each name. She narrows her eyes for a moment, thinking. "The third," she adds quickly.

Naomi presses her lips tightly with the familiar name. "His father being the one who tried to destroy Hyrule?" the woman says with a slight shake to her voice.

Naborin shakes her head, "No… that was his great grandfather. Male Gerudos are only born every one hundred years."

"Does he wish for this land?" Kimble leans forward.

Naborin bites her lip and looks to the grass. She pulls out a few blades, contemplating on what to answer him with. She takes a deep breath and says, "King Dragmire never told _me_ what his intentions are… but there _are_ rumours." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Some of the rumours are so strong a group of women have decided they no longer want to take part in the raids. Something about it being unethical, that it is morally wrong for them to make such _brutal_ attacks," she says in a hushed tone and then rolls her eyes.

"And what does King Dragmire say about that?" Naomi shrugs looking down at the girl.

Naborin give a half shrug. "He doesn't care—so long as they stay out of his way and do not foil any of his plans."

Kimble shakes his head as Naomi's eyes fall to the ground with tired eyes filled with despair. Naborin flattens the grass beneath her hands and ruffles it back up, uncomfortable with their reactions and not knowing what to do or how to act. "He's looking for something," Naborin says, her voice far away.

Kimble's heart drops and for a moment, he feels as though he will be living out one of his great grandfather's adventures. As a boy, he would have leapt at the opportunity, but with the passing years, he has seen how battles go, he knows the truth, he knows that the fights Link went through have been glorified to fit the listener's expectations. "What does he seek?" he asks after searching for his voice.

"The try… try… Triforce," Naborin nods at remembrance of the unfamiliar word. Naomi makes an audible groan of horror. She shakes her head and for a moment, Kimble and Naborin think she will cry. "Don't worry," Naborin places a hand on the woman's shoulder after crawling closer to her, "nothing bad will happen."

"I thought it was merely legend," Naomi looks to her son. "The Triforce of Courage, Wisdom, and Power… they're real?" No one choose to answer the question. She swallows hard and her bottom lip begins to quiver as she thinks of her son going in to fight for the good of the people. She shakes the thought out as Naborin's thin arms wrap around her in a hug.

"Does he know where it is?" Kimble asks, trying to sound firmly in control, how he pictured the Hero of Time would sound had he asked the question himself, but his voice is much too feeble to be that of a hero's.

Naomi turns her head to her son as Naborin lets go of her. "He's sending his people to Castle Town, Kimble." Tears bead in the woman's eyes. "He obviously knows it is within the walls around the Castle," she tries to control her voice, but in the process, her voice cracks with a slight cry.

Kimble clears his throat. "How long do we have until he sends another group in?" he asks. Naborin shrugs in response. "In the morning, the Sheikah will be leading our people there, mama. I want to be the only one following, understand?" He juts his jaw forward, trying to hide his own fear.

"No one will be going," the scared mother weeps, keeping the demand firm.

"I am the leader of our people. I am the chief. What I say goes," he whispers gently. "I am a man. You protected me when I was a boy and needed you, and I shall do the same. I am also Link." He keeps steady eye contact. "If anyone can stop him, it would be me, mama," he smiles sadly.

Naomi opens her mouth to argue back, and Naborin rests her head on the woman's shoulder. Before Naomi can let out her words, a young man drunkenly stumbles between them. He trips over his footing and falls to the ground before the group. He lifts his chin and sees Kimble seated before him.

"Link," the young man breathily says, his breath reeking of whiskey and wine. He pushes himself to his knees, "Jericho, at your service." He turns slightly and sees both Naborin and Naomi and smiles with a gentlemanly bow, "And of course to yours, my ladies."

Naomi nods with a simple smile and Naborin narrows her eyes. Jericho tries to hide the smile his lips form into. "My, what an exotic, young lady," he slurs, holding his hand out to the Gerudo. Naborin takes it and is soon brought to a blush as the Fallen Sheikah kisses the back of her hand. Jericho then stands and looks down at the three.

"Why all the long faces?" he asks, finally noticing. Kimble looks up at him then back down. "Did someone die?" Naomi glares up at him. He covers his mouth and bows again with sober thoughts invading his intoxicated lull. "I am sorry for my indignation. I did not mean to offend."

"You and Impaz are still leading us to Castle Town at dawn?" Kimble questions trying to rid the tension built up.

"Of course, Link," Jericho sways slightly.

Kimble stands. "You will only be leading me—,"

"But Impaz wished for you all to be gone. She doesn't like strangers in the village when she is absent."

"Things have changed," Kimble sighs. "My people will be leaving tomorrow, but not to Castle Town."

Jericho narrows his eyes and then nods. His drunken self stumbles again. He takes a deep breath. "Will the lovely lady be coming with us?" he asks nodding to Naborin. Naborin hides her face into Naomi's shoulder.

Kimble takes a moment for thought and then answers, "Yes." He turns to the girl. "Are you alright traveling with me?" The girl looks up at him with her amber eyes wide and unsure. "I'm going to need someone with me to back up my accusation. They won't believe me alone."

"Alright," Naborin nods. Her eyes then look back to Jericho.

The young man gives a sweet, drunken smile to her and then brings up the scarf around his neck to hide his mouth and nose. "You should get some sleep, hero," he says with muffled words. "Morning comes early in these parts." The young man then leaves their group and enters the small house hiding them from plain view of the village's center. After a pause and the group of three letting the new information absorb in their minds, the door to the small house opens again.

Jericho peeks his head out from behind and says in a loud whisper, "I forgot to say goodnight. So, goodnight!" He then sticks a hand out and waves before he closes the door for the second and final time.

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**Alright, here we go, the momentum has picked up!**

**Also, I did some research on the timeline... I really don't follow them that much when it comes to the series, it just confuses me**

**Anyway, I have figured out a way to fit this into the actual game series without it being too ****far-fetched... I hope xD**

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**As always, reviews are welcomed!**


	6. Chapter 6: A Horn Sounds

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Impaz tightens the saddle around her horse's midsection. "What do you mean only two of the Feral will be accompanying us?" She cranes her neck to Jericho who has perched himself bareback on his horse.

"No, just one," he says while petting the horse's forehead, "the other is a Gerudo."

"A Gerudo," Impaz glares at her brother with outrage. "I will not be leading one of those beasts," she huffs after buckling the saddle tightly. She turns around and grips a pack on the ground and hoists it up onto the horse's side. "What about the others? They cannot stay here."

"The Feral said his people will leave as well, only somewhere else." Jericho dismounts and begins saddling his horse. "The Gerudo is only a girl. Even if she was a threat, she's out numbered. There are three of us and only one of her."

"No, there are _two_ of us." Impaz tightens her ponytail and sighs as she sees her brother struggle with the saddle. She pushes him aside with a childish smile—the kind only siblings exchange—and she begins to properly ready the saddle. Jericho rolls his eyes as she eases through the straps and buckles. Impaz finishes and then turns to him with a shrug and a pat on his shoulder.

"Where did they want to meet us?" she asks mounting on her horse. Jericho mimics the motion and half shrugs in response to her question. Impaz gives him a long blink and then makes a clicking sound with her tongue, making her horse begin a trot.

The young woman makes her way to with Jericho following close behind. They stop at where the Feral Kokiri camped is and see almost nothing. The tents they set up last night have been taken down, the children and women are in carriages waiting for the coachmen to drive them off, while the men make final conversation before the journey.

"Ah, Jericho," the hero greets with a smile as his horse trots towards the fourteen year old and his pint sized sister.

Jericho nods to him with a sincere smile and Impaz narrows her eyes. "Where are they headed, Feral?" she asks in her usual tone.

Kimble turns his head to his people and then back to her. He clears his throat and informs her, "The name is Kimble Link, and my people will be heading south. I think they will be safer and less prone to an attack by another power hungry Gerudo squad—," the last word is huffed out as a small elbow drives into his side. He turns over and furrows his eyebrows at the young Gerudo seated behind him on Epona.

Jericho's eyes light up as he sees the small, sun kissed girl. Suddenly, he feels a run of embarrassment as he remembers last night. He hunches over in his saddle and lowers his chin. Impaz makes a face and sighs.

"Are you two ready for the ride?" she asks dusting her cropped pants free of some dirt and dried grass.

Kimble nods, "Yes. We've been ready since it was still dark."

"Alright," Impaz rolls her eyes again and quickly brings her horse into a trot making Jericho and Kimble try to catch up.

The ride is a long one. Naborin falls asleep before they even approach the bridge on the outskirts of Kakariko Village. The sun slowly rises from its slumber as the small group heads west. Kimble turns his head just as they leave behind the lavish green grass. He sees his people moving south to safety. He brings Epona into a gallop, careful not to have Naborin falls off the horse's back.

"How long will it take us to get to Castle Town?" the young hero asks Impaz.

She turns her head, white hair stands whipping her face and answers, "When the sun has reached its peak, we'll be lucky to be able to see the castle on the horizon." Kimble nods and lowers his head. He thought it would take less time.

"Rest assured, Link," Jericho smiles, coming up from behind, "We'll make it there before it gets dark—,"

"We better," Impaz turns her head towards Jericho. "All sorts of things come out of the dark in these parts."

Kimble nods. It wasn't too long ago that his village settled by a guay infested tree. All the people had to hurry out of the area. Though they could have killed them, since the last three decades there has been a ban on guay hunting due to them being endangered. One of those blasted birds snipped his head, causing a raised scar to appear. He subconsciously touches the scar as the remembrance traces his thoughts.

Aft a few hours of riding, Impaz calls for a short break from riding just as Kimble believes he can see the castle's walls. She dismounts and begins to pull her pack off her horse. She sets up a small blanket on the grass and brings out bread and cold tea. Jericho does the same, only he brings out what appears to be dried meat and apples.

Kimble slowly dismounts off Epona, sure to not knock the sleeping Gerudo down. Naborin slowly falls to her stomach, almost hugging Epona as she lands. She takes a deep breath, turns her head, and continues to sleep. Kimble rubs his stiff back and shakes his head.

He approaches the small blanket with a bashful expression. "I am sorry, but I don't have anything to contribute," his eyes lower to the ground as his mouth waters from the aromas.

Impaz raises her eyebrows and continues to eat, biting into a fresh, bright red apple. Jericho furrows his eyebrows at her and curls his upper lip. "You can have some, if you wish," he smiles and pats the blanket for the young hero to sit.

"If he has some, it's coming out of your portion," Impaz warns with a mouthful.

Jericho narrows his eyes at her and then hands off one of the two apples of his. Kimble holds it for a moment and seats himself. He shakes his head, "I can't take food from you, Jericho. You are too kind," he hands the fruit back to the Fallen Sheikah. Jericho ignores the hero's hand and reaches for a small bottle filled with tea. "Really," Kimble insists, "I am fine, please take it back."

Suddenly, a hand sweeps in front of his in a blur and a small high pitched giggle sounds. He turns to see the sleeping Gerudo standing behind him taking a large bite into the apple. She winks at him with a smile full of apple.

Kimble then turns back to the group and sees something strange. The poker faced Impaz seems to have a strange line on her lips, one that curls up—a smile. Kimble takes a breath and readjusts his seating. Impaz opens her mouth and laughs out loud. Both Jericho and Kimble jump at the sudden noise.

She pats the blanket beside her hard and points to Naborin. "Come sit, you little thief!" she chokes slightly on the food in her mouth. She watches as the girl kneels down beside her. "You're got some nerve doing that," Impaz smiles looking at the Gerudo with a sort of admiration. "What's your name, little thief?"

The Gerudo clears her throat. "Naborin," she grins shyly. Her eyes quickly make their way around the circle of people. When they set on Jericho, she darts them away as he looks back at her.

"Well, Naborin," Impaz nods, "how are you enjoying these parts thus far?"

Naborin's golden eyes look to the Fallen Sheikah. "Quite fine, though," she makes a face, "there are much too many men in these lands."

Impaz smiles, she is finding that the Gerudo isn't as bad as she thought. "I agree whole heartedly!" she slaps her leg. "It doesn't help that they're all silly little beings either—,"

"Hey," Jericho makes a face at his sister.

Naborin feels herself smile and decides to nod with agree. "I never knew I would find a Hylian with the same thoughts as mine," she admits.

"It's not true!" Jericho growls. Impaz laughs at him. "Father was a smart man, so was his brother!"

"But not you," Impaz teases.

"Link's smart, right Link?" he turns to Kimble looking for some assistance.

Kimble shifts in his spot pinching his cheeks up. "I don't know, Jericho. My mother used to tell me that a man only gets his knowledge after he becomes a father… apparently, boys mature slower than girls—,"

"That can't be," Jericho cross his arms with an angry smile. "Men are smart. Maybe even smarter than women—no! They _are_ smarter than women!"

"Don't mind him," Impaz laughs turning back to Naborin. "He's a little weak in the mind, he can never tell a joke from an actual statement." Naborin smiles and nods with her chuckles.

"I don't even want to be around you anymore, Impaz," Jericho growls. He begins picking his things up and stands from the blanket.

"Jericho," Impaz hollers over his ruckus. "It was a joke. Calm down."

Jericho furrows his eyebrows at her and mutters under his breath as he sits back down. Kimble pats his shoulder and nods off to Impaz. "How long have you been the leader of the Fallen Sheikah?"

Impaz swallows down a piece of dried meat and shrugs. "Since we were ten or eleven, right Jericho?" she nods to her brother for reassurance.

"Yeah," he gasps after taking a sip of his tea. "It was before you stopped growing, that's for sure—," Impaz smacks his side.

"So you are twins?" Naborin inverts her eyebrows.

"We are the only reported case of Sheikah twins ever, including both the Fallen and not," Impaz nods with a proud smile.

Kimble raises his eyebrows and smiles, "That's quite remarkable. I thought the Sheikah could not have multiples."

"Like she said, Link, we are the only Sheikah you will find that shared the womb together," Jericho laughs. "What about you, Link? Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asks, nudging the young hero's side.

"Uh," Kimble shakes his head, "no." he takes a breath, "Well, I did have an older brother once… but he passed during infancy—,"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jericho covers his mouth.

Kimble shakes his head, "There's no need to be sorry. I was only a thought in the back of my mama's mind when it happened." He pauses. "When I was younger, my mama used to be _very_ protective of me… I asked some of the other Feral Kokiri why and that's how I found out—,"

"She never told you?" Jericho leans forward.

"No," Kimble reclines himself back. "My people do not talk about the dead. They say it brings around evil spirits," he sighs, "though, that never stopped my mama from talking about my papa."

"There's a way to bring the mood down," Impaz rolls her eyes with sarcasm oozing from her voice. "What about you, Naborin, any… sisters?"

Naborin shakes her head, "No." She runs her index finger and thumb from the base of her ponytail to the tip. "The Gerudos are only allowed one offspring. If the child dies before they can bring a new spawn into the world, then the family name is dead."

"Ah, so you have a surname," Jericho smiles, trying to hide his curiosity.

"No," she narrows her eyes with a straight face. "We are only named after those we descended from. Like me, I am Naborin, descendant of Naboora. She was in one of the first groups to leave Hyrule." She smiles augustly, "The name is very old—some say she was around during the making of Hyrule."

Impaz questions, "What happens when you run out of name variants?"

"We simply start over. In fact, my grandmother was given the name Naboora."

"We do something similar to that," Impaz nods. "We have surnames though, or else there would be four other Impaz's and two Jericho's," the twins laugh together. "Each generation has a specific name given to them from their ancestors."

"Who does Ganondorf get his name from?" Kimble asks making Naborin arch an eyebrow.

She shakes her head again. "All male Gerudos are given the same name."

Impaz sighs as the dark subject is touch on. She stretches her legs, "One more question little thief." Naborin turns her head to the Fallen Sheikah. "Who was the father of the first Gerudo?"

Naborin ponders the question for a moment. She furrows her brow and makes a face. "His name started with a 'G'…" she waves her hands, "I don't know." Naborin looks to the grass, "They say he was the one who gave us the red hair and amber eyes though—," a horn sounds off in the distance. All four of them jump and turn towards the source.

What they see makes their stomachs flip. It is not a man, though not quite a monster. He rides on the back of a boar, blowing his horn loudly. Jericho and Impaz both clutch onto their ears as the sound booms through the field. Naborin closes her eyes tightly, the site of the humanoid monster being too much for her young thoughts.

Kimble stands to get a better look at the beast. As he stares, he notices four more of these monsters riding boars. Kimble hears a zip past his ear, and then another with a beam of orange. He turns back and suddenly, a new zip and then a holler. He watches as Impaz tries to pat out the fire on her brother while careful not to disturb the arrow protruding from his upper right chest.

"Get on the horses!" Kimble yells as more zipping arrows pass his ears. Impaz pulls her brother up and leads him to his horse just as a new fire infested arrow skims her calf. She lets out a muffles holler and waits for Jericho to climb. She then races to her horse as best she can and begins to ride off with both her brother and Kimble behind her.

The beast men follow them for what seems to be hours, driving them further and further away from the castle. It isn't until Jericho uses all his might to toss a few Deku nuts behind the three that they get enough time to escape, but in the process, Jericho feels a new quick pain, this time in his back. He looks down and sees the tip of an arrow poking out from his midsection slightly off to the left.

Before he can allow his panic to sink in, his horse races towards the others. As they retreat to safer grounds, Impaz jumps off her horse and grips Jericho's to stop. The young man lets out a cry filled with agony and panic. Impaz swiftly pulls him off the horse and examines the wounds.

"What was that thing?" he asks in a sort of hysteria as he groans and spits with pain and agitation.

Impaz lays him on the ground and rolls him to the side to examine the injuries further. "Keep calm, Jeri," she speaks in a nervous voice, trying to comfort him at the sound of his childhood nickname. She touches the arrow in his back and he lets out a howl. "This one needs to come out—,"

"I would be more worried about the one in my chest!" he growls with spit flying from his lips.

Kimble takes a quick look around and stiffens. "Where's Naborin?" Impaz slowly grips the arrow in her brother's chest and then hastily pulls it out. Jericho screams out in pain.

His lips now chatter as adrenaline flows through his body. "I thought she was with you," he says, trying to fight off the shakes.

"We have to go back—,"

"_We_ cannot. If you want your Gerudo, go get her yourself, Feral," Impaz growls compressing the wound on Jericho's chest. She rolls him slightly, "I have to take this one out now, Jericho." She takes a deep breath, "One, two—," a scream, louder than the first sounds along with a crack. "The arrow broke!" the young woman exclaims.

"Leave it for now, we have to find a doctor either way—I have to go get Naborin," Kimble says swallowing enough of his fear down to walk back to Epona steadily.

"What do I do?" Impaz cries over her brother.

"Compress it," Kimble mounts the mare. "I'll be back sooner than you think!" he hollers as he charges Epona off back into the dangerous fields.

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**I'm sorry. I went a little crazy with the length of the chapter...**

**I swear, this story is the only one I've exceeded 2000 words or close to 2000 words every chapter.**

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**What do you think will happen?**

**Will Kimble find Naborin? Will Impaz be able to keep Jericho's booboos (wounds) compressed?**

**AND! If you have an idea as to who Naborin was referring to as the father of the first Gerudo, let me know in your review xD**

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**Again, as always, review are much welcomed!**


	7. Chapter 7: Terror

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

* * *

******To the ones who guessed at who the father of the first Gerudo was, the answer is *drumroll* GROOSE! **

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Kimble races across the field, if his red-brown tunic had been green, one would have believed he was truly the hero of legends charging into a battle. He draws his blade as one of the beasts rushes towards him on a Bullbo. He slashes his blade and watches as the monster's head flies through the sunny sky of Hyrule.

Kimble spots the blanket and sees a small figure lessened into a ball. He dashes Epona to the spot, but is quickly warned away by flaming arrows. He grips his horse's reigns and tightens his feet around her belly for her to race back. Kimble withdraws his blade again, as a new humanoid monster screeches towards him. The monster has a second behind him as he is the one who drives the Bullbo. The one in the back jumps onto the young hero's horse, dangling by the saddle's grip.

Kimble struggles to keep himself stable as Epona rears up. He uses the pommel of his blade and hits the beast's fingers loose. The monster falls and rolls off with screams of agony. Kimble then thrusts his blade at the one driving making it pierce through whatever heart it had and topple over. Kimble brings Epona near the blanket and sees the figure in the ball is only one of the packs they left behind, not Naborin. Epona tramples over the pack and races to the east as Kimble Link guides her.

He looks around. His heart races as more and more of the monsters race after him. One man cannot take these things on alone, not even a legend. He swallows his fear. He tries to muster up the little courage he has and charges towards the horde.

He slashes and slices his way through them. The young hero knocks down countless monsters, but it does not stop the one's left from shooting their arrows and clubbing him and his horse. Kimble falls as the third club strikes him on the back of the head. Epona is gone with a flash; her courage seems to have faded more than even Kimble's. He looks up at the sky and soon, it darkens to the shadows of the monsters. He takes a deep, stable breath. His tears water as he watches one of them raises their club high above its head. His hands rise up to protect himself and he closes his eyes tightly, but the hit never contacts him.

Kimble opens his eyes as the monster falls to the ground. Another, and then another; all falling after a zip. As the cloud of shadows leaves him, he sits up, eager to see who his saviour is.

"Hurry up," Naborin hollers preparing a bow with a new arrow. "There will be more!" She reaches a hand out to him to pull him atop the Bullbo she is perched on. She tosses the reigns behind her, "You need to lead him." She slides further up the Bullbo to give Kimble more room. Naborin then brings her knees under her and turns to face Kimble. She shoots three arrows, one after another, making Kimble worry she will hit him. He makes the Bullbo race in a zigzag pattern, hoping it will give the monsters a hard time to follow.

Naborin weaves herself behind Kimble as she finds his body keeping her from getting clean shots at the enemy. Soon, there is only one chasing them, but he is quickly taken out by the hawk eye of Naborin. She keeps her back to him as they ride. Both of them are exhausted from the ordeal, their chest rising and falling as they ride onward in the field.

As they near the spot Impaz and Jericho are, Kimble questions, "How did you manage to get one of these?" referring to the Bullbo.

Naborin turns her head over her shoulder and smiles. "In Gerudo Desert, they are the best way to get around—,"

"I mean, how did you—,"

"I know what you meant, Link," Naborin cuts him off. She takes a deep breath to calm her breathing. "It was difficult, they are very fussy animals." She swallows with a breath. "One of the monsters you took down had a bow. I took it and shot at one of the Bullbo riders and chased down the animal." Kimble nods and slows the Bullbo down as they approach the other half of their group. "I'm not as helpless as you thought I was, now am I?" Naborin smiles as they dismount.

Kimble shakes his head, "I never thought you were—you're a Gerudo."

"Then why did you come back for me?" Naborin smiles cheekily as she jumps in his path. Before Kimble answers her, he pushes the girl aside. Not out of annoyance or lack of interest, but because Kimble could hear Impaz not crying, but screaming. Screaming like a wild animal. Screams that a child would only think a ghost or demon were capable of, a scream that mothers hide their children from and men keep well distance between.

"What's wrong?" Kimble drops to her side as she looks down at her brother. Impaz tears drench the boy's tunic, as she lets out on more holler of horror. Kimble looks down at Jericho, and his blood runs cold. The Fallen Sheikah's skin is ashen, there are dark circles shadowing under his eyes, and his mouth hangs open like a loose cupboard.

At first glance, one would say the boy was dead, but Kimble had heard stories of men being buried alive due to their companions believing them dead, so he presses his hand on the Fallen Sheikah's chest, hoping to feel something.

Impaz wipes the tears away as new ones begin to fall. She had watched young Jericho, heard his final words, and began to cry as he closed his eyes, all while trying to convince him to stay with her. Kimble leans over Jericho, his ear just above Jericho's grey lips. He lifts his head and begins to pick the Fallen Sheikah up into his arms.

"What are you doing?" Impaz shrieks. She tries to stand from the ground she kneels on, but her legs make her stumble and fall. "You can't take him from me!" she cries, hysterical from what she thought to be the death of her brother.

Kimble glares down at her. "If we stay here much longer, your brother will surely die. If you had listened closely, you would have heard faint breaths. Rather than being the calm Sheikah woman your ancestors would be proud of, you chose to lose all your wits. Now if I continue to stand here explaining to you that we may be able to save your brother, he will die before we get to a doctor." Impaz's lips part. "Hurry and get your horse." The young hero turns to Naborin, "Are you alright with Jericho riding with you?" The girl nods and she races to the Bullbo.

"What about his horse?" Impaz questions in a small voice.

Kimble hoists Jericho in front of Naborin as she rides the Bullbo to him. He turns to Impaz, "I'll take it." She nods without question to where his horse could be. The group then make hast as they race around the infested field of monsters, sure not to run into more again. They make it to Castle Town as soon as darkness creeps in. Naborin, all the while, was sure to feel for Jericho's chest to rise and fall regularly.

One may say that in an unfamiliar city it is hard to find what you are looking for. People one questions are less likely to give a proper answer to faces they have not seen before. Kimble, Impaz, and Naborin were no exception. They questions countless people in the city, all answering with blank stares—though few would give a simple direction, though often leading the group in circles.

It was when Kimble, the one who had been praying to the goddesses, the one who had given Impaz hope, the one who had led them here, had given up on his own hope that they found refuge. Fatigued from carrying around the boy through the city—for they could not bring in their animals—Impaz and Kimble sat the young man against a building. Be it through chance or the goddesses answering the young hero's prayers, Naborin raised her eyes and read out loud the name of the building.

"Castle Town's General Clinic." At those words every single one of them found a new energy, a new drive, a new hope. Kimble and Impaz bring Jericho back up and Naborin follows close behind as they enter the small building. Just as an old man's eyes look down at them, Kimble tumbles to the floor, everything fading to a nauseating black.

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**Alright... so a couple of things have happened in this chapter... call this a recap, if you wish.**

**One being realizing Naborin is pretty handy with a bow and arrow (surprised? lol). Two, Jericho may still be in danger, after all he was pretty grim looking when Kimble came back. Three, Impaz's emotions get the better of her... possible the reason why she chooses to be kind of shady. And four, Kimble now has something wrong. **

**What do you think may be wrong with Kimble? **

**I'll give you a hint, if you look back at when he is being surrounded by the Bulblin (the 'humanoid monsters', as I call them), you should have an idea. **

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**As always, review are much welcomed!**


	8. Chapter 8: I'll Stay

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

* * *

**I would like to apologize for the delay in the chapter, it would have been up earlier, but the document I had was on a different computer.**

**Long story short, this is most of what I can remember from it**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Kimble lies in the bed the doctor has assigned him. Both Impaz and Naborin had a terrible time trying to carry him to the comfort and safety of the bed from the cold, stone flooring of the clinic.

The old doctor leans over him; he lifts his monocle as he further explores the young hero's head. He turns to the young girls and nods officially, "He seems to have come to some sort of concussion—probably due to all the rough housing you children do these days."

"Will he be alright?" Naborin asks—her voice in a solemn tone.

The doctor's monocle pops off as he nods, "Most definitely. Just a few days rest, under the careful eyes of his parents, and yes," the old man waves his hand as he speaks. "Now," he turns his attention to the other boy, who one of his two nurses placed on a new bed, separated from Kimble's by a white, dingy curtain. "This young one here I have _great_ concern for."

The old man feels Jericho's chest and winces as he touches the wounds while the young, unconscious boy sleeps, almost frozen in time. "What was he doing before you found him? These wounds are much more serious than anything I have come in here on a day to day basis," he shakes his head.

Impaz's eyes narrow in hurt. "We were in the field. These—these _monsters_ came out of nowhere!" She holds her hands together, "Please, he is my brother!" She looks up into the old doctor's beady eyes with hers pleading, "He needs help."

Before Impaz's waterworks start up again, the old man holds her shoulders, "I will do the best I can, no need to worry yourself, child." He rolls up his sleeves and turns to the girls before proceeding. He takes a moment before carefully thinking over his wording. "Perhaps it is best for only family to be present. Uh, even then, I feel uncomfortable doing such a thing." He sighs as Impaz nods Naborin off to the chairs in the foyer of the clinic. "Now child," his eyes rest on Impaz, "this is a procedure that is rather invasive… graphic if you will. If you are uncomfortable with the sight of blood and gore, you may want to join your friend."

Impaz nods and stands sure that she wishes to see what the old doctor is willing to do to help her brother. She kneels at her brother's bedside and for a moment, looks at his grey face. She turns back to the doctor. "I'll stay," she nods.

The doctor sighs again, "Blood and such things are not meant for a young lady's eyes. You may have seen your father gut a pig, but it is much different when it is someone you love and care about—,"

"I said I'll stay." Impaz's jaw clenches and she swallows hard. And so it began, the invasive, gory surgery—as the doctor described it. He spent forty minutes removing the arrow stuck in Jericho's abdomen, and nearly two hours trying to take out all the splinters. Every second, Impaz watched. Every moment, she wished it her on the table and Jericho live and well with but only a flesh wound on his calf. Every face he made, every moan of pain he sounded, reminded Impaz of how she wished it to have been her. Had she been riding behind, she would have had less surface area for the monsters to hit, and more space to dodge the arrows.

The old doctor shakes his head countless times during the surgery. At one point he uttered something about Jericho being 'a poor, young fellow'. When Impaz found enough nerve to speak to the doctor, she decided on a question.

"Why did he pass out?" she asks. The young woman takes a shaky breath. "I thought he was dead."

The doctor arches a long haired, white eyebrow as he keeps his eyes on the sutures he sews with great precision. "Things that do not belong in the body will cause very strange things to happen. If they are not taken out soon enough, the item can cause infection, puss and such will spew from the open wound if left untreated." He takes a breath. "As in your brother's case, the item was not near the state of infection, but caused him to go into shock. The body shuts down—if the pain is intolerable to the victim. With your brother, I am shocked he is still breathing." He cuts the end of the stitch and begins on the wound on Jericho's chest. "Most children his age would have gone into a very dangerous sort of shock—one which causes the body to shake violently and ultimately kills them… but he is strong."

Impaz nods at the last word. Her brother is strong and always has been. She chokes back a cry as Jericho groan out her name like he is having some sort of nightmare. She brings her hand to his forehead and combs back his long white hair. He struggles with the dream for a moment longer, but is soon calmed.

"Your brother is lucky to have someone like you," the doctor says as his eyes look to her after a new stitch. He takes a deep breath. "What were you children doing out in the field?" He shakes his head, "It has been unsafe to travel the fields for quite some time."

"I and my brother were called on by Her Grace," she keeps her eyes fixed on her brother. "The other two," she shakes her head, "I don't know why they came."

"Two Fallen Sheikah, a Gerudo, and a Feral Kokiri," he lightly chuckles, "that's quite the strange entourage; wouldn't you say so?"

"Yes," Impaz nods. "The Feral is a descendant of the great hero."

"Which one?" the old man shrugs. His eyes look under the long eyebrows they hide behind. "There are many."

"I don't know," Impaz says with her voice distant as she watches Jericho. The old doctor continues his sutures in the peaceful quite that has fallen over them. When he is finished, he opens a large cupboard and brings out a red liquid captured in a bottle. "When he awakes, give him this to drink. It should take most of the pain away."

Impaz nods and takes the bottle. The old doctor then begins to leave the small curtained off room. "What is your name?" Impaz turns to him, finally taking her eyes off Jericho.

"Doctor Kaebora Rauru," the old man bows his head. "May I ask you yours?"

"Impaz Penumbra. This is Jericho," she nods her head to her brother.

"Pleasure meeting you, Miss Penumbra," he smiles, making his old face wrinkle and crease. He narrows his eyes for a moment. "This may sound strange, but I believe we have met once before." He thinks for a moment. "Yes, you were much younger though. You didn't have the harshness to your eyes." He smiles gently, "You were a sweet girl. Helping Her Grace with the delivery of her second daughter, am I correct?"

"Yes," Impaz smiles at the remembrance. She could still feel the aching nervousness of holding the young Princess Zelta for the first time. "My brother will be caring for the new addition of the royal family. Prince Zeldan, I believe his name to be—,"

"Ah, wonderful to know I have helped the Queen and King once more," Doctor Kaebora Rauru smiles. "But, alas, I have other patients to care for, so please, allow me to take my leave, dear Miss Penumbra."

"Of course, I am sorry to have kept you," Impaz softens her eyes. The old doctor then leaves the small section. Impaz leans on the bed, watching as her brother slowly jostles and mumble in his sleep. She brushes back his hair, "It's alright, Jeri, everything is going to be okay."

"Did the doctor heal him?" a quiet voice pierces the air. Impaz turns to a small opening in the curtains. Naborin stands, poking her head through, her eyes are soft and respectful.

Impaz nods as she straightens herself. She waves for Naborin to come into the room. The young Gerudo takes small, brisk steps on the stone floor. She stands by Impaz and looks down at Jericho.

"Has he been asleep the whole time?" she asks, turning her attention to Impaz.

Impaz takes a deep breath. "The doctor said it is a pain induced sleep." She feels her throat run dry and raw. "But, he'll be fine," she chokes out.

Naborin places a hand on the Fallen Sheikah's shoulder, "You're like a mother to him, aren't you?"

The young woman takes a deep breath. "Before our father died, he told me I was responsible for Jericho, and vise versa. I care for him as much as I care for my wards."

Naborin opens her mouth, but is cut off from a groan. The two of them turn to the curtain cutting them off from Kimble's section.

"Where in Din's name am I?" he calls out as he struggles to stand from the bed. His legs are weak as he climbs out. He takes his first step away and tumbles to the floor, pushing back the curtain dividing him from Impaz, Naborin, and Jericho. He looks up as he sees the feet of Naborin and gives a confused expression.

"You're in a clinic," Impaz says in a voice which carries more authority than usual.

The young hero stands to his feet and sees the body of Jericho. He dizzily stands, holding onto Naborin for support. "Is he alright?" Kimble questions as he sways slightly.

"Yes," Naborin speaks for Impaz.

"How long will he be out?" he asks, closing his eyes slowly as the blackness begins to close in again.

"I don't know," Impaz answers.

"Dear Farore," the group turns to the curtain which has opened yet again. Doctor Kaebora Rauru stands shaking his head. "You, young sir, need to be in that bed," the old man nudges his head to the room Kimble came from. "I've been searching for you, thought you raced off with a case of amnesia." He steps towards the young man. "Come on, you can talk to them when you are up for proper socializing."

"But—,"

The doctor cuts him off, "You're going to over work yourself." He looks down at Kimble as the young man sways some more. "Look at you," Kaebora shakes his head; "you're getting tunnel vision, aren't you?" Kimble closes his eyes, trying to make the spinning stop. "Come now, get in bed. You have a concussion." The old man wraps his arm around Kimble. He then disappears into the side curtain. Words are spoken, but muffled to both Naborin's and Impaz's ears.

The two wait and listen to Jericho as Kimble lays back down and earns some much needed sleep. Every so often, Naborin changes rooms, she pays a visit to the sleeping hero—making sure he is still resting and then retreating back to Jericho's bedside, to keep Impaz company. Occasionally, there are screams in the back, other times there is only silence, and the sound of breathing is almost deafening. It takes a long while, but Jericho finally awakens, his arms clutching his side while his mouth opens with a howl.

It takes Impaz all of her strength to hold Jericho still as he struggles to cope with his pain. When he has calmed, she raised the bottle to his lips and he drinks the red liquid inside. Though the drink keeps him from his howls and struggles, his breaths are shallow, and Impaz can see that he is still in deep agony.

Jericho fixes his eyes to a dark spot on the ceiling, trying to focus on something other than the radiating pain. His eyes water, but he is too proud to let the girls see his tears. They remain in his eyes for the remainder of the night. He utters no words, not even when Impaz questions him. Jericho's jaw clenches and hands tighten onto the sheets below him, forming fists of cotton. When the quick, tightening pain of the wounds beam through his body, he kicks his legs slightly, sometimes throwing his head back with an airy groan.

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**I apologize if the format is different from the last chapters.**

**I had to switch computers and couldn't remember what the spacing was that I used.**

**Hopefully everything is all good. **

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**I have no questions for you this chapter, but that doesn't mean you lovely readers don't.**

**Let me know what you think will happen, maybe even give me a little idea as to what you want to see happen (no promises I'll do it, but if I do, I will be sure to give you credit).**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	9. Chapter 9: Mercy

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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******I would have had a chapter up earlier... but that chapter I deemed 'no good'.**

******My apologies c:**

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******Fragments of Fervor**

As much as Impaz wished to be with her brother during the days and nights while he was in the clinic, she had to leave. She had to be with the young Princess Zelta and Prince Nohan for her intermission was now over. She left during the second night, figuring Jericho would be well enough to look after himself. Kimble and Naborin, however, promised to stay with the boy until he grew well enough to be on his way.

Impaz looks down at the trouble maker, Princess Zelta. "You are not to be climbing these statues," she waves her finger at the little princess with Prince Nohan glued to the Fallen Sheikah's hip.

"Why not, Impaz?" the princess questions.

"They are memorials for those lost in great wars. You pay your respects to them," Impaz raises her eyebrows looking for a nod from the six-year-old. The trees in the courtyard rustle with the breeze. The girl nods and hums as she takes off down the gravel path.

Impaz races after her with Prince Nohan shrieking with delight at the new excitement. "Princess Zelta!" she hollers as the little girl climbs her way up one of the many statues. "Get down here this instant!"

"Already having trouble with the royal youths, Impaz?"

Impaz turns and smiles trying to hide her frustration with the girl.  
"Advisor Gonzus," she bows her head, "fancy meeting you here."

"Hardly," he hums a laugh. "Princess," he calls up to her. "You better get down—,"

"Why?" the girl laughs looking down at her audience.

Gonzus steps forward with a smile and a wink to Impaz. "Didn't your mother and father ever tell you about Prince Neld?"

"Prince Neld?" The girl makes a face, "There has never been a Prince Neld—,"

"Oh, but there was," Gonzus nods. "He was born before you. He was such a little hellion," Gonzus smirks at the clever little lie. "You remember him, don't you, Impaz?" he turns to her, inviting her to play his little game.

"Oh," she nods, "of course—most defiantly!"

"How come I've never heard of him?" Princess Zelta says in a voice less sure of herself.

Gonzus turns back to the skyward girl. "He's gone now—,"

"Where did he go?" she demands.

"Well," Gonzus looks to the ground. He looks back up at the princess. "One day, he decided to climb up the statues." Gonzus shrugs, "We tried to warn him not to do such a thing—but he didn't listen." The advisor shakes his head, "He climbed to the very top of one, stayed up there for hours." His voice becomes very serious with a touch of grief. "When he decided to come down, it was too late. Just as he got to the statue's waist, he let go to drop to the ground."

Gonzus widens his eyes as the girl listens carefully. "Just before his feet touched the grass—the statue caught him in the palm of its hand!" The princess lets out an audible gasp. "The statue pinched at the back of the young prince's tunic and lifted him to eye level," Gonzus mimics the motion. He shakes off a fake shiver, and dramatically brings the back of his hand up to his forehead, "The rest is much too horrible to mention."

"Tell me," the princess hollers as she begins to hastily climb down the memorial statue. She races to Gonzus and looks up at him, "I _must_ know!"

Gonzus kneels down to the princess height. "The statue brought the prince to its mouth and opened wide—stuffing the boy in his mouth!" He shakes his head, "It was horrible to watch… even worse to bring it up again." Advisor Gonzus widens his eyes, "The statue ate your brother."

Princess Zelta, summoning all the bravery a six year old can, turns to the statues with harsh eyes. She turns back to the advisor, "Which one of them did it?" The princess's nostrils flare in a new found vengeance.

"The statue was removed, dear princess," Impaz says bouncing Prince Nohan back into place for he had slid down slightly from the run.

"But who's to say that the others won't do the same?" Gonzus adds. He narrows his eyes, "The rock used to sculpt them _was_ from the Haunted Wasteland."

Princess Zelta looks around at all the statues looming over the path. She tugs at Impaz, "I want to go back inside."

Impaz nods and begins to walk. The princess grips her protector's hand tightly and keeps her eyes on the ground, fearing one of the many statues may be watching her.

"Watch out, princess!" Gonzus hollers making the little girl race back to the castle, screaming until her lungs gave out. Impaz glares back at Gonzus who only bows his head and smiles.

As Impaz makes her way into the castle, an older woman smiles and takes Prince Nohan. "The king wishes to see his children," she says as she takes the hand of the petrified princess. Impaz nods, she knows the routine; every morning she takes the youths out for a walk and then for an hour the king takes them, after which, lunch in served, then being sure to have them properly clothed for dinner, and then Impaz keeps the youths until bed time.

Impaz makes her way up a staircase. She traces her fingers over the corridor's walls, careful not to knock the solemn faced portraits that hang.

She sees a guard standing erect before the last door of the hall. Impaz nods to him, "Is Her Grace in the nursery?"

The guard looks down at her. "Yes, Impaz, would you like to visit her?" She nods. "She'll be happy to see you back," he smiles and clears the way of the door.

Impaz knocks on the door twice and then opens it. The room is brightly coloured with silk curtains flowing in the breeze of the open window. The walls are decorated with tapestries that tell stories, and filled with soft cushioned furniture. She turns to see the queen lying on the large bed to her right.

"Your Grace," Impaz bows to her knee with her right arm crossed over her chest.

"Ah," the woman smiles, holding Prince Zeldan at her breast. "Impaz, how do you fair these days?"

"Quite well," she nods, still kneeling.

"You may rise," the queen nods waving her hand in a gesture for Impaz to come near. "Come see."

The Fallen Sheikah stands and makes soft, slow steps towards the bed. The queen pulls down the blanket that covers the infants head and smiles. "Isn't he beautiful?" she asks shifting her eyes from the baby to Impaz and back again.

Impaz smiles from ear to ear. The tiny prince twists his head and nuzzles closer to the queen's breast. "He looks just like you," Impaz admits, "eyes and all. Not an ounce of the king in him." She cocks her head, "Absolutely beautiful."

The queen turns her head to Impaz, but keeps her eyes on Prince Zeldan, "He has his father's hands and feet." She lets out a gentle laugh, "I had to get his slippers and mitts custom made. Everyone who has seen him can't believe how big they are." She narrows her eyes with a grin, "He also has his father's big, old ear."

"Maybe he'll grow into them," Impaz shrugs.

"Daphne never did," the queen titters, mentioning her second eldest.

"Princess Daphne is only four, Your Grace," Impaz reminds her. "She still has time to grow in to them."

"I hope not," the queen sighs. "I love her ears. The way they poke out," she smiles, "kind of like Zeldan's."

"Exactly like Prince Zeldan's," Impaz giggles. The infant whimpers slightly and then latches onto his mother.

"Where is Jericho, if I may ask," The queen finally takes her eyes off her son and looks around the chamber for the Fallen Sheikah's brother.

"He couldn't make it—but he should be here in a few days," Impaz voices.

"Oh," the queen sets her sky blue eyes onto Impaz, "what happened?"

"On our way here, we were attacked by a group of… monsters." She shakes her head, "They shot arrows at us and Jericho ended up being the one to get hit. Don't worry," Impaz reassures the queen, "he's in a clinic—with two companions. He's fine."

"Are you telling me this or are you trying to convince yourself?"

Impaz looks at her feet. She licks her thick lips and nods, "I know he'll be fine."

The queen places a hand on Impaz's shoulder, "If you wish to be by your brother's side, you may take leave and return whenever he is well—,"

"He's fine," Impaz smiles through the pain she feels.

"I know that look, Impaz. I get it whenever one of my children is hurt." The woman places the infant onto a pillow. "Go to him—," she cuts Impaz off from refusing, "—you listen to your queen. I will not have you here. Your brother needs you by his side. Return with him." She smiles cockily, "I will not have you in my home without Jericho." Impaz furrows her eyebrows. "I am ordering you to be with him. These are Her Grace's wishes."

"You are far too kind, Your Grace." Impaz takes a step towards the door, "I will not forget this—,"

"_You_ never do," the queen smiles with a chuckle as Impaz opens the door and races out of the room.

The bond between a brother and a sister is like no other. They know when the other is upset, they can feel it. They can exchange a look that sends the other into a fit of laughs, or one that can make the other second guess themselves. They fight as well, their arguments can lead to hellish battles, hisses and growls filled with a false hate that will soon be restored to its natural loving nature. Now with twins, such as Impaz and Jericho, the bond is only made stronger.

Impaz, from the moment she left the side of Jericho, could feel the sadness it caused him. So much so, that she couldn't shake the feeling while with the young prince and princess during her two days back. As much as she smiled, she could not help but feel at a crossroads between her duties and her brother.

She races down the alleys of Castle Town, searching for the clinic she left him at in the care of Naborin and Kimble. Her heart hammers her chest as she sees the sign and enters the small building. The clinic reeks of death. The pungent bitter sweet smell makes her cover her nose with her sleeve. She looks for the curtain that her brother's bed lies behind and rips it open with a beaming smile for their reuniting.

Impaz feels her heart drop. Behind this curtain lays a bed, a bed with someone in it. That someone having a sheet loosely fitted around them in a veil of taboo. She falls to her knees, sliding her hand down the curtain she still holds. The young Fallen Sheikah's eyes water as she looks to the covered corpse. A nurse passes by and she grips the woman's arm.

"What happened?" Impaz asks in shallow words, unaware of her absence in breath.

The woman looks to the body and shakes her head, "He passed this morning… shame nobody was with him when it happened." She sighs, "He was in a great deal of pain, coming in from the fields." She purses her lips. "We thought he was going to pull through." She looks down at Impaz, "Did you know him?"

Impaz lifts herself to her feet, feeling the white-hot tears begging to be let out. She pushes past the nurse and races out of the clinic. As the sun's light beams down on her, she lets the beads of tears fall. She cups her face, her mouth stuck open but making no noise. She sniffles and takes a breath and then the sounds come out of her mouth. Impaz hitches a new breath and feels her body jerk with each cry. Her best friend, her comfort, her kin, her brother, her twin is now dead. Lying lifelessly on a bed covered by a white sheet that is hidden by a curtain is Jericho.

She wipes her red, bloodshot eyes free from the blur of sadness and walks down an empty alley. She stops a ways down and leans on the backside of a building. She slides down until she feels the stone beneath her on her bottom. Impaz, once again, comes to her emotion's mercy.

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***Insert George Takei's "_Oh my_" here***

**Umm... so... yeah.**

**What are your thoughts? Anybody? Anybody?**

**... Where do you think Naborin and Kimble went off to?**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	10. Chapter 10: We've Got A Fresh One!

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**This is a ****_really_**** dark chapter… just for fair warning, alright?**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Kimble looks down at Naboin solemnly and wraps his arm around her as they walk. They may not have known Jericho for long, but the time that they did, they saw the best of him. Naborin's dulled eyes look up at Kimble.

"Shouldn't we tell Impaz?" she asks, trying to keep herself from hitching her breath.

Kimble keeps his eyes on the cobblestone street. He shakes his head, "We will tell her when we go see the king."

"We have to tell her," Naborin shakes his arm off her. "We have to tell her _now_."

"How?" Kimble shrugs. "It's not like we can just storm into the castle asking for Impaz." His sapphire eyes flash as the gas streetlights flicker off as the rising sun shines. "We have to make an appeal. I don't know how _you_ people go about to bring up an issue with your king, but here, it is a long process—commoners are not permitted to enter the castle—,"

"You are _Link_," Naborin argues. "That should be good enough for them to let you in. You are a messenger—tell them that—Impaz needs to know!"

Kimble glares down at the young Gerudo. "Bearing the same name as a long ago hero is not enough leeway to get in there." His lips tighten. "Our best option is to make the appeal and then while there ask for Impaz."

"How long will that take?"

"If done correctly," Kimble thinks for a moment, "six to seven days."

Naborin shakes her head with her jaw clenched. "That's far too long to deliver the message." She storms off to the north.

"Where are you going?" Kimble hollers as he chases the girl. Some of the people on the street stare.

"I'm telling her _myself_," Naborin answers in a voice meant for someone ten feet tall. She feels Kimble reach out for her arm, but she dashes away just in the nick of time. If it weren't for the grief stricken morning, she may have even giggled at the game.

Naborin charges through the alleys and street, almost bumping into countless merchant stands and people. Kimble, on the other hand, was not quite so lucky. Just as he nears Naborin, he pounces at her, but gets cut off in midair due to a wheelbarrow being pushes out from behind a building.

With a groan, a grunt, and a push, Kimble wills himself to keep after her. Naborin makes her way to the large doors that hide the entrance of the castle. She looks up at the massive wall surrounding her destination and is taken aback. Kimble grips her shoulders and the guards before the doors watch him carefully as Naborin lets out a shriek.

"Mind you manners, boy," one announces to Kimble.

The young hero nods to him, "Don't mind me, we were just leaving—,"

"I'm not leaving with you," Naborin tries to shake his grip off. She watches as the guards stiffen their backs and bring their spears up. She smiles slightly. She turns her head to Kimble and whispers, "I know how to get in."

"How nice for you, now let's go," Kimble rolls his eyes and jerks her to start moving.

"Leave me alone!" she screams. "I'm not going back to that place!"

"What are you talking about—,"

The first guard steps forward, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave that girl alone—,"

"Please!" Naborin throws herself to the guards as Kimble releases her. "Help me," she grips the first guard's arm tightly, forcing desperate eyes.

"Naborin," Kimble steps towards her, but the two guards hold their spears, readying themselves as a warning to him. He holds his hands up and takes a breath. "Let's go," he demands.

"Either you leave or we will be forced to incarcerate you," the second one says in an official tone. Kimble shakes his head.

"If you let him leave he will only follow me again!" Naborin cries. The first guard looks down at Kimble with hateful eyes.

"She's lying to you," Kimble says with a shrug. "We've been traveling together for a few days now—,"

"He won't let me go!" Naborin whimpers with a fake wine.

"That's it," the first guard spits, leaving the side of Naborin and approaching Kimble. "On behalf of the safety of this girl and the safety of Hyrule, I hereby incarcerate you. You have no rights, you have no voice. It will stay like this until the day you plead your case to the father of our land."

Kimble backs away slowly, "I didn't do anything—," he then is forced to the ground. He tries to fight the guard off, but the weight of the man is too much for him to lift. Soon, he is shackled and lifted back to his feet. He is then escorted beyond the doors. Before he enters them, Naborin give him a smirk and a wink.

The doors open before him and he takes a breath. The land behind the doors is beautiful, filled with flowers of all colours and trees of all sizes. The vast beauty of the frontal entrance is enough to make any man, from Goron to Zora, forget all his troubles and have his mind wonder and wish to dwell in this glorious field.

Kimble feels his hands being tug painfully and then a rough push for him to continue to walk forth. He travels down the white, stone path and stops as the guard pulls him back. They stand before the castle, Kimble's heart pounding at the astonishing sight.

The gates before him then open and they proceed. A mote falls down after the guard behind the hero waves a signal to the men in the towers above. The two then enter the massive _true_ entrance to the castle. To Kimble's disbelief, the entrance to the actual palace is even more magnificent than that of the field.

Large, over the top tapestries hang from the high ceilings. To Kimble's surprise, they all depict a man cloaked in green battling some sort of demon. The last one he passes under, he is sure is one to represent his great-grandfather. They enter two large doors, and in they step to the foyer of the home of the king and queen.

Kimble shakes his head; the castle itself is grander than he could have ever dreamt of. Down one hall, he sees a young girl racing in a gown made perfectly for her. Down another, servants and maids bring out china and trays. The guard behind him speaks in low tones to another, explaining the young hero's circumstances.

"Why are you here?" a small quiet voice asks.

Kimble looks down to see a young girl with bright eyes and ears poking out of her loosely—but carefully braided hair. "I am falsely accused of a matter not meant for little girls to hear."

The little girl's large blue eyes study him for a moment. "I'm Daphne, what's your name?" she smiles with a slight twirl from side to side.

"Kimble," he whispers.

Her small rosebud lips purse and she giggles. "I am a princess," she smiles proudly. Kimble—unsure to believe the child—nods and smiles to the child. "Will my father be seeing you?" she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her large ears.

"Perhaps," Kimble murmurs.

"Princess Daphne," The guard looks down, just noticing the child's presence. "Your father told you not to be out here," the guard scolds. "You don't know if this man is dangerous—,"

"He doesn't look dangerous," the princess cuts off the guard. She smirks and lets out one of the most innocent laughs a child of her age can, "He doesn't even have a sword!"

"That's not the point, princess," the guard says as he begins to lead Kimble away.

The walk through countless winding corridors and then finally down a dark staircase, only lit by small candles, ever four metres or so. They then walk down a hauntingly dim corridor and the guard opens a small wooded door. Behind, the place smells of desperation, dirt, urine, and fecal matter. Kimble dry heaves as the guard behind him covers his nose.

A new man then takes Kimble off the care of the guard. The man pulls back a dark curtain and removes Kimble's shackles. He then tosses a wrinkled, white tunic and white, grim infested trousers to the young hero.

"Put these on and give me your clothes," The man demands and then shuts the curtain.

Kimble does as the man says and quickly exits the dark curtained off section with his clothes in his hands. The man grabs the clothes from Kimble's arms and tosses them into a dying fire. The cotton soon catches and gives the embers new life, sparking flames of red and orange.

The man fingers through a ring of keys and sighs, "You'll be happy to know that those clothes you wear were washed only a week ago." He chuckles softly, "No man has died in them… yet."

Kimble swallows hard and follows the man to a barred door. The man opens the door with one of the many keys and gestures for Kimble to enter. The man then shuts the door with a clank and turns back to the hero.

"Every morning, there is breakfast. The people who serve try to do it quickly. If you are not in the front of this door by the time they are here, you will most likely go hungry. The men chained to the walls are not to be conversed with. The men in the back are fine, but keep your wits about you, boy. All kinds of things happen in the dark."

Kimble's tensed shoulders tremble slightly. "Are there murderers in here?" he asks in a small whisper.

"Some of them," the man nods, "yes." The man looks down at Kimble with sympathetic eyes. "How old are you, boy?"

"Seventeen," he answers, licking his dry lips but quickly regretting it as the smell of the dungeon sticks to his tongue.

"Oh, goddesses, that's young," the man palms his face. "I'll tell you what," the man sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I will look out for you until your day in court. I only request that you do not cause any trouble, you hear?" Kimble nods. "Good," the man nods. "Keep your nose clean." He then leaves out of the vision of Kimble.

The young man then makes his way to the eastern wall, staying clear of the men to the back and the others on the walls. He sits with his knees to his chest, holding his legs close while tucking his head into his arms. Quite the contradiction this castle is. On the outside was beauty and in the basement there is such disgust, such horrid things.

A small bead of water falls onto the dirt black floor. Kimble sniffles quietly and rubs the streaks that stain his cheeks. He pushes his ash blonde hair away from his eyes and tries to sigh away his emotions. He watches the fire as it burns away the last of his clothes. A lump in his stomach begins to form as he hears yelling from the wall opposite of him.

Soon, sounds that can only be described as meat being slapped hit his ears, along with hollers and cries, making the young man close his eyes tightly and clamp his ears. Kimble is not scared, no, scared is too dull of a word. He is terrified, terrified that the meat slapping with turn into wet noise followed by silence.

He opens his eyes and sees two figures hitting each other. One falls over and the other pounces on top. His vision is blocked as new shadows dance around the two, cheering and hollering at the excitement. Kimble closes his eyes again, but a noise, so loud and horrible, makes him open them again widely.

The shadows have cleared, and the first figure stands from the second. The one on the ground stays there, paralyzed or dead, Kimble cannot decide.

Kimble, with his breathing raced and eyes watering with no mercy, races to the barred door. "Let me out! Please!" he begs. He hits the bars with the palms of his hands, praying to his three goddesses the man will do so. There is no answer.

He hits the bars some more, hoping the rings will hit the ears of the man who said he would look out for him. Kimble's tears drench his face as he begs some more. "For Din's sake, please!" he cries.

Kimble turns quickly as he hears rustling in the dirt behind him. He presses his back on the door and slides down. His fear making his legs useless, he cannot even try to push himself back up. Crooked teeth flash in a smile as one of the figures draws in near, almost circling him like a shark does.

"No," Kimble breathily whispers. The figure, like an imp, crouches on the floor and takes a swipe at his legs. The prisoner pulls our hero by one leg, but Kimble latches onto the bar door, using all of his strength and will to hold tight.

"We've got a fresh one! We've got a fresh one!" the prisoner sings, trying to pull Kimble free. The group around them laughs, cheers, and howls as Kimble cries once more for help.

His grip is lost as one of the figures hits his fingers. He screams as he drags on the floor. Just then, to his mercy, the door slams open. A man with a lantern marches his way, the prisoners shrieking as the light moves towards them.

With the dim light, Kimble watches as the man dragging him stops and raises a large rock over his head. The impish man then drives it down, looking to aim for the young hero's head.

"That's enough!" the man with the lantern hollers waving it towards the prisoner. The impish man shrieks and tosses the makeshift weapon behind him. Silence fills the dungeon and the rock clipping the wall sounds. The man with the lantern looks down at Kimble. He holds his hand out and brings the young man to his feet. He glares at all the prisoners and then hurries Kimble out of the barred door, swiftly closing it as the men race towards them.

Kimble can hear his pulse in his ears, his temples throb and his face feels hotter than fire. He looks up at the man and now notices it is the same one who put him in there.

"He was going to kill you," the man says, huffing and puffing loudly. "That one likes to break in the new ones." The man shakes his head, "Why are you in here anyway?"

Kimble, now shaking from the adrenaline rush, whispers bitterly, "A girl made it seem like I was going to do something terrible to her—,"

"And were you?" the man interrupts.

Kimble curls his upper lip in disgust, "No." his eyes dart to the barred door as hollers and cackles burst. "She did it so I could get into the castle."

"What's your business?" the man sighs as he sits down on a chair.

Kimble folds his arms as he shivers. "I needed to send a message a nursemaid."

"How romantic," the man smiles, "was it to proclaim your love for her?"

"No," Kimble spits. He shakes his head, "Her brother died this morn."

The man raises his eyebrows. "So your friend saw it fit for you to get arrested?" He shakes his head, "Sounds rather silly, if you ask me."

"How else was I to get in here?" Kimble asks, almost taking offence.

"For one, you could have told one of the guards. They would have surely told her." The man narrows his eyes as he thinks. "You could have also written it in a letter. There's a postman who comes here daily."

Kimble slouches slightly, "Well, I didn't know that—,"

"Of course you didn't, why else would you be here?" the man chuckles. "If you would like, I can send word that you are here for no reason," he sighs, "I could probably even arrange it so that the nursemaid gets the message." He stands. "You'll have to stay put here until one of the guards come down and escort you, but I think it would be better than being in there—," he nudges his head to the barred door. Kimble nods repeatedly. "Well," he nods to the hero, "I'm off." He takes a few steps away. "Just stay here and I'll be back in a jiffy."

Kimble tries to speak, but his voice is caught in his throat, so he only nods. He takes the man's seat and leans forward, his elbows on his knees, the moment of him being dragged through the dungeon replaying in his mind.

"Pssst," Kimble turns his head to a wall. "Down here," a voice calls out quietly. His eyes look to a small opening in the base of the wall. There, the little princess who approached him earlier sits. "I want to play a game," she smiles.

Kimble shakes his head, "This is no place for a princess, you best be off."

The little girl shakes her head, making the loose braid fall apart, "No. Follow me," she calls as she crawls back into the hole. Kimble hesitates for a moment. "Come now," she calls, her patience wearing thin. Kimble stands from the chair and lowers himself to the ground. "I have something to show you!" she laughs as she crawls further and further into the dark tunnel.

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**I hope this chapter was good enough for you guys. **

**Again, I'm sorry for the dark bits... Also for the length of it. **

**I kind of got carried away c:**

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**Question time!**

_**Where do you think Princess Daphne is leading Kimble?**_

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**Anyway, as always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	11. Chapter 11: It's Dangerous To Go Alone

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Throughout history, it would be fair to say that HyruleCastle has changed its location on multiple occasions. To the naked eye, one would disagree, but when given a look at the entire spectrum, it is hard to deny. At most points throughout time, the castle has been located in the centre of everything, like a grand statue to greet every and all who pass by.

Other times, the castle seemed to have moved to the very north of Hyrule, almost like a sort of hidden gem meant for the eyes of only those who are careful enough to see it. Alas, the only reason for the castle to have moved was due to the land growth.

Hyrule had become quite the country during its young life. The forest grew deeper, the desert was never ending, and the field—that led to everything—could be walked a million times without taking the same step twice.

One could manage to find all the rubble from previous centuries of where the last castles had been. After the attacks of the great evil kings, the royal princess, who survived, would find it in her people's best interest to move elsewhere.

This castle, the one Kimble Link now travels in through a small dark tunnel, is but eighty years old. The castle was made to stay in its place, never needing to relocate again—or at least one would hope.

There were secret compartments to the castle, a bookcase that—when the right book was tugged—would open to reveal a lavish panic room, three wardrobes that, when entered, led into new rooms, four faux pianos with casings that one could jump into and be dropped tnto a shoot that led to the river just outside of Castle Town, and, of course, the tunnels in the walls and under the floorboards.

None of these safety precautionary things were every used by anyone—aside from the young Princess Daphne. She found the tunnels best when playing a game of hide and seek. She could be on one level of the castle and then, the next minute, be three floors below and crawling out to enter one of the wardrobes creating one of the longest hide and seek games ever played.

Kimble raises his hand as a sharp, quick pain enters the palm of his hand. Princess Daphne turns back to see him looking down at a small sliver of glass.

"I broke one of my dollies down here," she informs. "Be careful, I couldn't pick up all the broken bits." She then continues to crawl further and further through the darkness. Kimble, being a great deal larger than the princess, constantly rubs his face free from cobwebs infesting the top of the tunnel.

He follows cautiously, not knowing where the child is leading him. At one point, he fears he has lost her, but that all dissipates as he hears her giggles ahead.

She turns back. "We're almost there," she laughs. Kimble nods and follows more. They crawl for what seem to be hours, for in the dark there is no way of keeping up with the time.

A small beam of light appears before Kimble's eyes. Dust and cobwebs circle around it, making the beam seem eerie, regardless of it being light. He watches as the little princess crawls towards the light.

"You might have a tough time making it through," she grunts as she pulls herself out of the tunnel. Kimble struggles to fit his broad shoulders through the exit. He grunts and huffs as he finally achieves to fit through.

"What is this place?" the young man asks, looking around the dimly lit room. Streaks on sunlight dance through the ceiling and windows, dust is piled on the floor, and water stains plague the walls. There is furniture, but it is all covered with white sheets to protect them from the elements.

The little girl walks deeper into the room, her silk slippers leaving behind footsteps in the dust. She twirls. "This is the attic, but in our game, it is a great tower. We are here to save the prince. He's locked up in here, kept away by the evil lord." She points at Kimble, "You and I are the prince's champions!"

Kimble purses his lips and nods slowly, examining the room further. He kneels to her height. "Where is the prince?" he humors.

Princess Daphne turns to a wall and points to a flat, long, rectangular thing covered by a white, dingy sheet. "In there," she says in a low tone.

Kimble stands and makes his way to the sheet. He brings his hand up to pull it away, but stops as the princess gasps.

"Not yet Kimble," she races to him and grabs his hand. "It's dangerous to go alone," she warns. She grips onto the handle of a cane in a vase. "Take one of these."

Kimble nods solemnly and grips the cane's handle. He looks down at the little princess and pushes her gently back. "Be careful, princess." He narrows his eyes as he continues with the game. "I sense an evil presence."

Princess Daphne gasps and clutches onto the young man's hip, "Oh no!"

"Yes," Kimble tries to hide his smile. "It is very near, dear princess." He turns his head quickly to his right and points to a large chair covered by a sheet. "There!" he brings his cane up like he would a sword. "It is the Chairimungus! Arch rival and nemesis to both you and I." Kimble charges at the chair and swats it with the cane.

He plunges the cane into the chair and bounces back. "Princess," he hollers, "rip the skin off and it will return to its neutral state!"

Princess Daphne races behind the monster and rips the white veil off, revealing a magnificent, red chair. "Behind you!" she shrieks pointing to a cloaked wardrobe.

The two of them continue with the game, Kimble beating the furniture and Princess Daphne pulling the covers off. As they finish, both Kimble and the child are laughing loudly. Kimble plants himself on the floor and places the cane back into the vase.

"I would hope you both stay and clean this up."

Both the child and young man turn to the entrance of the attic. A sheet still falls to the ground, momentarily blocking their view of the person. As the white sheet settles, there stands the intruder. She is tall, her hair long and straight. Her deep blue eyes piercing at the two as she walks into the room.

"Mother," Princess Daphne races and clutches to the tall, thin woman. "We were playing a game!" Daphne explains.

The woman brushes a kind hand on the little girl's cheek. "I want you to go downstairs," she says in a soft voice. "Your father wishes to see you." She brings a large smile to surface. "He has gift for you and your siblings." Daphne lets out a giggle and springs out of the door filled with giggles.

Kimble keeps his eyes on the floor. His mind races as he realizes the woman is the queen. She watched him play with her daughter; a missing prisoner interacting with a child of royal blood. Kimble tries to redeem himself by lowering his head.

"Stand," she says in a loud, firm voice making him jump. Kimble licks his lips and stiffly rises, keeping his eyes on his feet. The queen takes brisk steps towards the young man.

"Your Grace—,"

"Silence," she demands. She raises his chin and looks at him. Kimble is almost shocked at how tall she stands—nearly being at the same eye level as him. "You're aware you have the entire castle looking for you," she states, not giving Kimble time to answer. "You have made my husband and myself worry for the safety of our children—,"

"Your Grace—,"

"You do not cut off Her Grace," she says with a tight jaw and booming voice, contradicting her beauty. "My only question is," her voice softens, "why did you choose to spend you time playing a game when you could have left?"

Kimble stares at her blankly, not knowing if she will cut him off once more. He shakes his head. "I wasn't trying to leave." He clears his throat as the queen nods for him to continue. "The dungeon keep went off to go find someone to free me. I came here with a message for one of the nursemaids."

"What of?"

"Her brother, Your Grace," Kimble lowers his head. "He passed this morning."

The woman nods and then takes a breath. She narrows her eyes. "What is you name?" she asks.

He bows his head, "Kimble Link, Your Grace."

"Link," she nods. She takes a step around him. "Are you aware of the legends?"

"Of course, Your Grace."

"How much do you know of them?" she shrugs, folding her arms.

Kimble takes a moment to think. "I know they all start off with a boy… and a supreme evil." The queen nods. "And a princess," he finishes.

"You are missing one very important thing." Kimble inverts his eyebrows at her. "A prophecy," she raises her eyebrows with the words. As she steps around the room, her elegant, purple gown drags behind. "It would appear time for a new legend, Link, for _I_ have that prophecy."

Kimble steps forward. "What have you seen?"

"I see many things, Link." She crosses her arms. "I dreamt a few moons ago there would be a white light shining in my attic. That white light then shot off into a mirror." She shakes her head. "You have come here to warn my husband. Ganondorf Dragmire is alive and well. We know of the attacks, and my husband's men are fighting them off as we speak." Her eyes settle on Kimble. "The white light was here to save our land—not from Ganondorf, but from a _real_ evil—one that has plagued a friend of yours and brought him to an early death."

Kimble shakes his head, "Jericho's passing was not due to an evil, it was an arrow."

"So then the monsters that shot the arrows were of a good nature?" the queen furrows her eyebrows. "Those monsters are coming from a place that one would dare not go under a sane mind." She lowers her hands to her sides. "I have a way of getting there from here."

She glides to the long, flat curtained item the princess had pointed to during their game, and reveals a magnificent mirror. Kimble stares into it; everything in the reflection is slightly darker, almost foggy.

"Do you notice anything different about this mirror?" the queen asks.

Kimble shakes his head, everything is how it should be, the chair behind him is in it, the walls, the doorway—, "Are you sure?" the queen smirks at him. His eyes look to her. She waves her hand in front of it and that is when he notices. Her hand's reflection is nowhere to be seen—not even his.

"It is the place where one will find the source of such evil things," the queen speaks. "It was once the resting place of the heroes of old. It used to be in the courtyard. Meant for the young princesses to go see their heroes." She shakes her head, "But now…" she looks into the mirror, "now it is a forbidden place. Over the last decades, the land behind the mirror grew malevolent, filled with things not of our world. Something has cursed it."

Kimble shakes his head as confusion pervades his mind. "Why are you showing me this?"

"I have been waiting for the hero to return… to save this piece. You are the blood of the hero Link. I am the last Zelda in our world, and Ganondorf is back. You are _my_ hero." She straightens her back. "History repeats itself once more hero Link." Queen Zelda places her hand on his shoulder, "If you enter this mirror, the only way for you to come out is by defeating what lay behind it." She lifts his chin, "I believe the young Jericho is there, trapped in the darkness, consuming him—draining him from his energy. You must save him, Link." Kimble nods.

"When you enter, I cannot tell anyone where you went, for if anyone chose to follow, their lives would be in mortal danger."

"I will do as you have asked, Your Grace."

She smiles, "I already knew you would."

Kimble takes a deep breath, summoning all of what he has, and walks towards the mirror. He presses his hand to the glass, but it falls through. He pulls back quickly and looks back to the queen. She gives him a nod for reassurance, and then he proceeds.

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**Oh goodness me!**

**A mirror that show's no reflection of people?**

**A place where the great heroes of old lay to rest?**

**... Alright! It was a tad dry... no violence, no argument, and no epic craziness. **

**I am sorry :c**

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**_What do you think will happen when Kimble enters this mirror?_**

**_What is Naborin up to, and where could Impaz be?_**

**-Would be the questions I'm asking. **

**Hopefully those questions will be answered next chapter!**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed.**


	12. Chapter 12: Proud And Sure

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it**

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**I would like to apologize to those of you who have been waiting ever so patiently for this chapter.**

**I've recently gotten sick... it's a ****_really _****nasty cold... like the ones where you're like 'Kill me now' type deal.**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

"Impaz,"

The young Fallen Sheikah turns her head as she wipes her fist across her wet eyes. She sees the tall, dark haired advisor, Gonzus, towering over a group of women down the alleyway. She turns away, but Gonzus hollers again, "Impaz." He excuses his way through and trots to Impaz's side.

Impaz keep her eyes away from him, too proud for him to see the softer side of the Sheikah's stone face. "Impaz," Gonzus breaths, his face reddened from the run to find her. "We have just received news—,"

"I already know," Impaz pushes past him, but he grips her arm. "Let me go," she growls through gritted teeth.

Gonzus keeps his grip. "Her Grace would like a word with you—,"

"Why?" Impaz pushes him back, "So she can send me her condolences?" Her airy pink eyes narrow. "She can send her words via letter." Impaz marches back the way she entered, but stops as soon as she realizes she will have to pass by the clinic where her brother's body lies.

Impaz moves her jaw a few times in outrage, incapable of wording the anger she has at this moment. She furrows her brow and pushes past Gonzus and down the alley towards the women. She slips past them with ease and then treks through the many streets of Castle Town.

Her anger floods her veins, though her heartache overpowers her thoughts. Jericho is dead, Jericho is dead and she could not do anything to prevent it. He was her only responsibility, and now… he is gone. Impaz takes a deep breath and jogs. Where? She hasn't decided for it is only where her feet will stop that will be her destination. She tries to keep the tears from falling, trying to stop the shivers from shaking her, anything in her power to keep up her Sheikah mental.

She sniffles slightly as her thoughts race back to her brother under a white cover—to hide his death, to keep others from fearing what will always greet them with open arms. She closes her eyes and keens over her knees. Her breaths are loud, struggling with a cry that will not be had. She clears her throat and opens her eyes to see the people around her staring.

Her lips part softly, and she lowers her head, unwilling to speak or explain her circumstances. Impaz licks her lips and feels the tears still dampening her lower lids as she drags her arm across her eyes. She straightens and continues to walk.

When Impaz has finally allowed herself to stop, when she has found an area she feels she will not be judged for her own bemoan, she finds herself before a bridge—one that has quite the drop to it.

Impaz approaches it with caution, gripping the railing as her tears jerk her with each cry. She looks over the edge with blurred vision, again, gripping tightly as to not become a victim of vertigo and plummet to her death. She leans against the stone railing, her heart pounding and body jostling. Her hands shake and knuckles whiten as she lowers herself further and further until her feet rise and body balances her.

Her brother died alone, perhaps this is how it was meant to be, her alone on a bridge, watching the raging waters below, deciding on whether or not to take her own life. She wishes for nothing more than to be by Jericho's side, and that can only be accomplished by death. Through this crude thought, she finds comfort, a comfort that only one can achieve who has lost everything. One without hope has no will; no appetite left for life, and sadly, Impaz has fallen into this state of mind. She wishes to feel nothing more than the breeze of falling hit her cheek, and then the bone shattering crash of the water, for then, and only then, may she be back with Jericho and exit this oblivion of a world.

She raises her legs, deciding a dive will best fit a Fallen Sheikah; proud and sure. She feels herself slide forth, her heart hammering louder than it has ever. She sniffles one last time, deciding if she should leave this world with one last word. Impaz decides to keep her thoughts to herself, for she will only be speaking to the air. Just as her arms straighten over her head for the immaculate dive, her body begins to fall. She closes her eyes and allows the air to chill her as she begins to slice through it.

"Impaz," a shrill voice hits the air, but Impaz does not hear. The young woman feels a jerk on her leg as her fall ceases. The jerk jams her knees and ankle making her curse loudly. Struggled grunts and hands are all Impaz hears and feels. Soon, she is dropped roughly to the safety of the bridge. "Are you alright?"

Her airy pinks eyes rise to meet the ambers of Naborin. She says nothing; her heart is no longer racing, the calm of the ground under her seeping through her body. She furrows her brow. Her death was her choice, her own decision but was stopped not by her hand—no, but by a child's who is too innocent to see the intention and fault.

"Are you alright?" Naborin repeats, gripping her own chest at the excitement. She shakes her head as Impaz does not answer. "I saw you starting to fall over there." Naborin points to the doors of Castle Town's walls. Impaz stays silent. Naborin sighs loudly, exhilarated. "I thought you were a goner," she breaths. Impaz nods absently. She cannot help but feel the hate's dam for Naborin begin to budge.

Naborin stands from the stone bridge. She brings a hand to the Sheikah and lifts her to her feet. "You're lucky I came out here," she laughs slightly.

"Yes," Impaz nods with a voice far away, "lucky." She dusts herself free from dirt and powdered rock.

"We were trying to find you," Naborin says in a rush, still pumping with adrenaline.

Impaz narrows her eyes. "Why did you leave his side?" she asks, with enough force to destroy a mountain. Naborin stares at her silently, unaware the young woman knows of her brother's death. "Why did you leave his side?" Impaz marches towards the girl, pinning Naborin between her and the bridge's railing.

Naborin presses herself against the stone. "We didn't mean to," she shakes her head rapidly. "We were only gone for a quarter of an hour—,"

"He died alone," Impaz growls bringing her hands into tight fists at her side.

"Even the doctor said he was fine!" Naborin defends. "We went to get some food for him, but when we came back—," The young Gerudo silences herself as Impaz takes no effect to her words. She lowers her head, "We made a promise and we failed at keeping it. I am sorry, Impaz—,"

"_Sorry_ does not bring Jericho back!" she hollers, fighting back the lump in her throat. She catches a fallen tear and glares at Naborin. Knowing full well actions speak louder than words, Impaz pushes Naborin—not enough to make the girl fall, but enough to get her point across.

Naborin's eyebrows invert in hurt as she stabilizes herself. "I'm sorry—," another push, this time harder, filled with anger and grief. "I'm sorry—," another, each apology earning another push. "Impaz—," another, "—stop," Naborin grips the Fallen Sheikah's wrists, only to be met with a leg swipe knocking the Gerudo down.

Impaz straddles the young Gerudo, in her mind the child is an equal—both in height and skill. She holds back Naborin's hands as the young girl struggles to free herself. Impaz uses one of her hands to lock both of Naborin's and uses her free hand to slap a red, vibrant mark across her cheek. Naborin's eyes tightly close with the slap. Water pools her eyes from the stinging pain.

In times of grief, one can deal with it in many ways. Some talk about it, some find ways to escape it; others absorb themselves into unhealthy coping mechanisms. Drinking is one that has been used, drugs—such as smoking Deku nut, seems to be popular with youths, and one, that is most often looked down upon, violence. Impaz is angry, and underneath anger is her pain which is caused from fear, a fear for the unknown, a fear for life without her friend since the womb.

She brings her fist up, readying herself to drive it down on Naborin. Tears blur her vision, and then she collapses, knowing her anger isn't directed to the Gerudo below her, but at herself. She curls inward and holds herself. Her cries are like a wounded animal's. Her face twists and contorts as her eyes stay closed, in shame for what she has done and how she is acting.

Naborin, still shaken by the ordeal, sits up; scared Impaz may straddle her once more. She looks down at Impaz, not in fear, not in hurt, but in understanding. Though Impaz has a tough exterior, she is still only a child thrown into the whirlwind of adult matters. Naborin understands this all too well. She places a comforting hand on the Sheikah's back and rubs in circles almost in rhythm to Impaz's cries. As Impaz sits up slowly, she releases a shaky breath and wipes her face, hoping for this to be the last of her tears.

"Link is in the castle," Naborin says in a flat tone. Impaz keeps her eyes to the stone beneath them. "I got him arrested thinking it would get him to you quicker." Impaz tries to stifle a laugh. She shakes her head. "I thought I could climb my way into the castle, but it seems to be more guarded than Gerudo Fortress." Naborin looks to the sky, giving Impaz enough time to wipe a newly fallen tear before she looks back at her.

"Well it _is_ a castle," Impaz nods, trying her best at keeping her throat from the raw feeling of sorrow. She stands making Naborin quickly mirror. She places her hands on her hips. "If he was arrested, he would have been placed in the dungeons." She arches an eyebrow, "It's not exactly a place one would wish to go."

"How do we get him out?" Naborin shrugs.

Impaz bites her lip and sniffles. "I can try my hand at freeing him, but you will not be able to follow."

"Why?" Naborin nearly wines.

"You are a Gerudo," Impaz reminds. "As young as you are, you are still a threat to the people." She shakes her head, "I'm surprised no one has said anything to you this far." Naborin's eyes lower. Impaz furrows her eyebrows. "Perhaps if you were disguised…" Naborin looks back to her. Impaz nods, "Yes, you could dress as a Sheikah." She holds her chin as she thinks, "Female Sheikah however do not cover their head… your red locks—as lovely as they are, will not do." Naborin subconsciously grips her ponytail. "But you could be a man—well, a boy." Impaz narrows her eyes, "_They_ do not know of Jericho's death…" She juts her jaw forward to stop a new cry. Impaz nods, "_You_ will be Jericho."

Naborin inverts her eyebrows. She shrugs, "We do not have any of his clothes—,"

"But I do," Impaz tries to smile, though ends up with an awkward frown. "I can go to the castle and grab some of his clothes and bring them out to you—,"

"What if you get caught?" Naborin shrugs.

Impaz licks her lips. "I can just tell them I am retrieving an outfit for Jericho to wear before he comes and serves his term." She nods. "Meet me in the town square. There is a patio where they serve food and drink—," Impaz hands the young Gerudo a small wallet, "—get something to eat, I'll be back in a bit."

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Princess Daphne stops herself as she hears her mother's voice rise. She turns back around in the corridor, curiosity seeming more gratifying than a present from her father. She quietly creeps back down the corridor, careful to keep the wood flooring from screaming under her weight. The words escaping the attic room are muffled, blurred together by a four-year-old's confusion. She flattens herself against the wall before the door and shimmies closer, peering into the room.

She sees her mother, the queen, in all her glory and grace. She also sees Kimble, standing with his back straight as her mother uncovers the mirror. Princess Daphne knows of the mirror, it has plagued her with many foul dreams since her discovery of it. She darts her eyes away from it as if she will be sucked into the glass and never to return.

She flattens herself on the wall again, too afraid to look back into the room. "I already knew you would," the princess hears her mother say. She takes a deep breath and looks back into the room, trying to avoid the mirror.

Princess Daphne's jaw drops silently. Kimble lies on the ground, his body limp as if he were sleeping. She steps out from behind the doorway and inverts her eyebrows. "What's wrong with him?" she asks as she steps towards the young man.

The queen quickly covers the mirror at the sounds of her child's voice. "I thought I told you to go see father—,"

"Is he sleeping?" Princess Daphne kneels to Kimble's side.

The queen takes a breath. "What have I told you about eavesdropping?" she asks bring the child back to her feet.

"Mother, is he in the mirror?" Princess Daphne asks, though her own fear causes the last word to be hitched. She looks to the mirror and escapes her mother's side. She pulls back the cover and peers inside, forgetting her own fear. "Kimble," she hollers into the glass.

The queen grips the child's wrist. "He's sleeping," she finally answers, looking into the girl's large blue orbs.

"Why won't he wake up?" she asks innocently, though her voice is firm.

"His body sleeps, though his soul awakens in a new world," her mother smiles softly.

Princess Daphne shakes her head, "What world?"

"A world too dangerous for you or I to enter. Daphne," the queen looks to her daughter and says sternly, "you mustn't _ever_ touch that mirror. Do you understand?" The young girl nods. "Kimble will awaken, not now, but in time. Until he awakens, you are not to be in here—,"

"Why?" the child asks, trying to keep her fear at bay.

"Because you are a child," the queen says as she takes the princess's hand. "If you follow him, you will not be able to get out."

"But I am a champion," Princess Daphne chimes.

The queen shakes her head as they leave the room. "In your games you are. In reality, you are a princess. Kimble Link is a champion—or at least his name holds that title," the queen shuts the doors and locks it with a key. "You stay away from this room. No matter who asks about him, you mustn't tell them where he is. It is dangerous—,"

"Could someone get hurt?"

"Someone could die," the queen widens her sapphires. She crouches to the ground to looks at her daughter on eyelevel. "No one can know."

Princess Daphne looks to the large door. Her eyes trail up and down it. "What if he needs help?"

"He won't." The queen stands. "Now come along, your father will be angry if you do not see to him at once."

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**To the five of you who left a review last chapter—well, all of you who have left reviews for that matter, merci beaucoup!**

**I know I sent a message to some of you saying the chapter would be up last night... sorry about that, I fell asleep... but woke up at three wide awake and ready to write xD**

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**This chapter—though briefly—goes into a darker bit... I'm not going to go all Children's Help Line on you, but...**

**If need be, just message me if you want to talk. Sometimes talking to someone you don't know can help.**

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_**ANYWAY! To the chapter! **_

**Question time!**

_**How do you think this disguise will pan out with Naborin and Impaz?**_

**Also, I know I didn't answer the question about Kimble, but that's because this chapter would have had an extra like... thousand words to it xD**

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**And to _Leila_: Sign in! lol**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed—and also, I promise the next chapter should be up later today or tonight. Promise.**


	13. Chapter 13: We Need A Hero

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Broke my promise... sorry :c**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

As Kimble enters the mirror, something strange happens—though entering a mirror in itself is strange. Rather than walking through, he finds himself pulling through, lifting himself. Gravity has shifted, the mirror being the ground. He lifts himself up and looks around. Inside the mirror nothing is a reflection. The images of the attic that were once there are gone; dissipated as he entered. He now stands in a forest; dark and damp, reeking of moss and grass with the earthy scent of mushrooms.

He takes a deep breath, unaware of the changes made to him. Rather than the white trousers and top, he now dons a green tunic, white trousers, and a green Phrygian cap. He furrows his brow and looks to the mirror he stands on, though now is it but only grass beneath his feet.

Hesitantly, Kimble walks forth, nearly terrified of what be lurking in this new, dark forest. He hears a rustling by an overgrowth of bushes. He turns quickly, looking for something to defend himself with, but finds nothing.

Kimble's fingers curl and tighten into fists as he stands readying himself. He breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to calm his thrashing heart. He waits, and finally the monster he has built up in his mind's eye appears, making him topple over in panic.

He stands to his feet, ready to pounce and fight for his life, but stops as he looks down to see a small child standing below. His brow furrows and his lips part, letting out a quiet but shocked gasp.

"Are you the one who destroyed the Chairimungus?" the girl asks, her dazzling sapphire eyes flashing with wonder. Kimble furrows his brow further; then lowers his fists. "We need a hero," the child lowers her head, her voice filled with sadness. She looks back up at him with a smile filled with hope. "You're that hero, aren't you?"

Kimble inverts his eyebrows. It is one thing to pretend to be a hero with a child for a game, but it is another to tell a child who is desperate for change something one does not fully believe of oneself. He opens his mouth, but the words he searches for do not find their way out. He tries again, and again, but nothing but muted gurgles and murmurs escape his lips. Kimble, frustrated, answers with a shy shrug and a shaking of the head.

The girl shakes her bottle green hair, making it bounce with each movement. "We _need_ a hero," she repeats, this time more desperate. Her voice is faint, but she asks him again, "Are you not the one who defeated the Chairimungus?"

Kimble tries to speak, but stops himself as the words do not exit. He lowers his head and nods; incapable of saying it was merely a game.

She skips around him in a circle. "You're probably curious as to where you are, aren't you?" Kimble nods. "It looks like your world, doesn't it?" He nods again, though hesitantly. She stops her skipping and smiles, "It's not your world. You cannot judge a book by its cover." Her face changes from child innocence to a warning look. "Especially in this place." She turns her head as she hears a snap. "We have to get out of here." She grips Kimble's hand. He stands stiff. "Come on," the child tugs him arm with a force that makes his elbow crack.

She races with him close behind, never taking her hand off his. She swings him into a new bunch of bushes and jumps in after him. Kimble turns to the child and shrugs, his lips moving mutely. He stands to look at what they dashed so quickly from.

"Get down!" The child pulls him roughly making him fall back to the ground. Suddenly, there is a howl that sounds like a siren through the air. Kimble freezes as the ululation continues. The little girl shakes her head and clasps her ears. Through the leaves, Kimble can see the outline of a large manlike creature. It stands on its back legs and even walks upright, but something is inhuman about it.

He keeps his eyes on it; its back is to him. It is blacker than night, lime green lines swirl and twist around its almost scaly skin. There is no head that lies on its shoulders, only a smooth silhouette, not even a stub for a neck.

Kimble narrows his eyes and nods to the girl for an answer as to what the thing is. The young green haired girl widens her eyes and shakes her head. The growl grows in length and volume. Kimble looks back to the monster and watches as it turns to face him.

The thing _has_ no head, only a body, arms and legs. Its eyes are set in its abdomen, along with a mouth frowning deeply in its gut. Kimble swallows hard. His eyes are larger than ever, watching every movement, his ears listening to every sound it makes. He feels the ground below him rumble as the monster walks away.

Kimble releases a breath that he has been holding since seeing its 'face'. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, trying to get the image of the monster out of his head.

"_That_ was Stamok'sy Opsi," the little girl says in a low whisper, almost a whimper. Kimble looks to her. "He's terrifying, isn't he?" Her cheeks pinch up; a painful memory hides behind her eyes. Kimble nods with a curled upper lip.

The little girl steps out of the bush they hide in and shakes her head, "If he sees you, he will destroy you—or leave you after growing bored with your screams and hollers. He's the only one like _that_… but there are others…" Her eyes watch as Kimble steps out. "They're worse than him though. Opsi is the only one who travels in the forest. This is _his_ turf."

The little girl purses her lips as they walk a little further in the forest, opposite in direction of Stamok'sy Opsi. "There's a reason why you came through and found me rather than one of those things facing you." She grips the young man's hand. "I am Saria." She shakes his hand roughly. Kimble smiles awkwardly and points to his mouth and shrugs in a sort of way to sign he cannot speak.

"I know," the young girl smiles, "there's a reason for that too." She sighs and places her hands on her hips. "You're a Link." Kimble inverts his eyebrows and juts his jaw back at the child's knowledge. "Many years ago I helped one of you." She looks around the forest. "He couldn't speak either—well, he could, but when he was on his quest… he lost his words. So much time alone, so much violence, so much death… it caused him to silence." Saria smiles up at him. "Don't worry though, he regained it after a year or so. You should be able to speak if you leave—," she covers her mouth. "You _will_ leave," she nods, hoping not to worry Kimble.

Saria palms her forehead, "I'm sorry." Her sky blue eyes look to him as she continues, "It's been so long in this place… I was beginning to think it would stay like this. But with you," she dances around him, "there's hope! And that's a good sign!"

Kimble takes a breath and furrows his brow. His lips tighten and then he shrugs looking around with raised eyebrows. "This is Kokiri Forest—well, the equivalent of it. Over there—," she points to a small opening behinds trees and rocks, "—is the Lost Woods. My temple is there," Saria smiles proudly. "But…" she shakes her head, "there is no need to travel that way at this point."

They walk a bit further, Kimble slowly feeling more and more confident about his steps. "You're in a new realm," Saria answers. "This place is a representation of the six Sages. Only our temples can be found here… nothing more."

Kimble nods. He clears his throat and sighs. Words race through his mind, questions rage in his brain, but all he can utter are grunts, murmurs, and gurgles. Saria smiles; "Don't worry. As you spend more and more time here, your lack of speech will be forgotten." They turn and suddenly the trees cease, and sand lies across the land before a large statue. "You will learn how to speak through your actions." Kimble steps onto the sand and Saria stays on the grass. "I can't go over there. It is not my area."

Kimble steps back to the grass, his head lowered in an apologetic way. Saria sits on the edge of grass and sighs. Kimble does the same, though he almost pets the grass with his fingers, to keep his mind roaming.

"You will find this place more and more dangerous as you progress, Link," she says as she reclines herself back. "I trust Zelda warned you." He nods slowly. "Good," Saria faintly smiles. "Before you go off on this quest, Link, you need to arm yourself." He raises his eyes to hers. The child takes a breath. "I trust you have heard of the blade that evil cannot touch, correct?" He nods again. "You will need to find it." She points a finger at him, "But before you do, you must be warned." She sits up and props herself on her knees. "When you retrieve the blade and lift it from its resting place, you will not be able to touch _anyone_ here."

Kimble furrows his brow with his lips slightly pursed. "If you do… there will be no way for you to leave. In a sense, if you touch someone here—" Kimble makes a face, "—yes there are others here—your soul will be unable to reconnect with its body." Kimble narrows his eyes, listening intently. "No matter whom it is, if you are touched by them or you touch them… your soul will be lost to your body and you will be forced to live out the rest of eternity here." Kimble nods at her repetition of the statement in new words.

He stands and looks around, stretching his arms over his head, releasing a moan with the stretch and then a sigh. The sky is dark, but the land around seems to be glowing faintly.

"You must find the Sacred Grove…" Saria stands to her feet looking up at him. Kimble nods. "It should be off to the west—but be sure that you are vigilant. Stamok'sy Opsi will be making his rounds."

Naborin steps out from behind a small kiosk that had just enough privacy for her to dress in her Sheikah drag. When Impaz sees her, the young Fallen Sheikah cocks her head with raised eyebrows. Had the Gerudo been half a foot taller, the black leggings would not have been so bunched at the bottom. Impaz's eyes trace up Naborin's outfit. The skin tight, black undershirt fits Naborin perfectly, and her developing feministic body is concealed. The breastplate Impaz's brother once wore now sits on Naborin's torso, shining in the sun's light making the crimson of the traditional Sheikah symbol glow.

Impaz holds her brother's scarf and cap. They still smell of him, like he had just taken them off for a night of rest. She approaches Naborin as the Gerudo loosens her ponytail out. Impaz places the scarf over the girl and hides the scarlet hair within it. She then pulls the cap tightly onto Naborin's head, hiding the rest of the ruby red.

"Do I look like a Sheikah?" Naborin shrugs, her voice muffled by the thin, white scarf.

"Yes," Impaz smiles, readjusting the cap. "Come on," she smiles, patting Naborin on the back, "let's go find Kimble."

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**Sorry for it taking an extra day... sickness.**

**Might be pneumonia... but I feel alright lol**

**No questions this chapter end... but if you have any, let me know!**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	14. Chapter 14: A Small Voice

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Before you read, I have apologies. I am sorry for not posting a new chapter in so long. I will be giving a briefing on what has happened thus far so you guys won't have to go back and reread. I could blame my absence on work, being tired, or even not having enough time to write, but that would be bullshit****—if you pardon my awesome French.**

**I honestly have been putting ALL writing aside for the last month and a half. I guess it would be writer's block, but that doesn't quite explain it. I love this site and I love the people who review and send me messages, but lately, I have not been "in the mood" to write or talk to people. I have just started being a "young person". I've been going to bars, hanging out with friends, shopping (which is rare for me), and yeah. All of that takes up time, and when I get home, I don't feel like writing for a few hours.**

**Sorry if this sounds like I don't appreciate you all, but I do, I really, really do. This one single chapter has taken so long to write. I feel like I have to choose between having a normal social life or writing… both things I enjoy, both things I would rather not give up on. Anyway, I am sorry. Sorry to all of you who have been waiting patiently for the next chapter, and sorry to those readers who have given up on my uploadings. **

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**ANYWAY! The briefing. So far in the story, Kimble has been arrested, freed, and then sent to the mirror realm where, as Saria said in the last chapter, holds the sages and their temples. The realm itself is infested with strange monsters, and Kimble must get the Master Sword and bring the realm back to its more neutral state. Also, Kimble cannot speak in this realm.**

**Impaz's brother, Jericho, has passed from being struck by an arrow. It has only been a few hours since his death. Naborin was the one who got Kimble arrested, and she also saved Impaz from throwing herself off a bridge. Impaz decided Naborin would dress in drag (in Jericho's clothing) so she and Naborin could enter the castle and free Kimble. They are unaware of what has become of Kimble, and **_**that**_** is where this chapter takes off.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

"Alright," Impaz sighs as she blocks the way of Naborin to the castle. "Advisor Gonzus knows of Jericho's death. That means that the queen probably knows as well… perhaps a few others too," Impaz narrows her eyes. She takes a deep breath. "Do not give anyone your name. I will be introducing you if need be." The young Sheikah nods and then proceeds into the large, stone castle.

Naborin keeps her eyes lowered to the floor for Impaz had mentioned to her that ember eyes were a dead giveaway that she was in fact not a Fallen Sheikah but a Gerudo. Even when they are in the castle, Naborin doesn't even dart her eyes to her surroundings, she only keeps her eyes to the floor and follows the feet of Impaz. First wood flooring greets her and then marble, after the marble soon follows more wood and then carpet. Impaz makes a quick stop making Naborin bump into her from behind.

"Where is the prisoner that was sent here earlier this morning?" the Fallen Sheikah asks firmly—Naborin almost flinching to the harshness of Impaz's words.

"What are you talking about, Impaz?" a man shrugs.

Impaz looks up at the man; his face is hidden by the guard of his helm. "There was a young man brought in here this morning. The guards believed he was harassing a young girl." Her voice becomes low and filled with authority, "I need to speak with him."

"I can see what I can do," the man nods and then walks away, his armour clinking as he moves.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just go there yourself?" Naborin asks, still looking to the ground.

"I am not permitted to go down there." Impaz rubs the back of her neck. "If he is there, chances are they'll find him quicker than I ever would." They stand for a moment in silence. Naborin's head itches from the linen cap on her head. The scarf around her face is tickling her nose and she does everything in her power to not throw the blasted accessory to the floor. She brings her foot up and scratches her opposite leg with it. Something about wearing a dead man's clothes makes her skin itch.

They stand for a few minutes in the overly large room. Impaz's eyes wander around the hall, watching the sun dance on the stain glass windows on the ceiling, the light shining through making red, green, and blue flood the floor they stand on. The room is beautiful, but not the kind of beauty that you have to search for. This beauty is easy to see, blatantly out there for all to marvel. Meant for a shallow heart to stop and be gaze upon with their eyes. Impaz sighs. Though the room is beautiful, it could never hold ones imagination for too long.

Her crimson eyes look to the walls. The armour of fallen knights stand along the northern wall as if the knights are still in their suits, geared up and ready for their next battle—though, standing stiller than statues. Something about them make Impaz feel uneasy. She looks to Naborin, who still has her eyes to the floor. The green light from the glass above ever so slightly makes the cap Naborin wears a soft greyish green. The shadows from the pillars holding the windows make the floor have an almost third dimension, giving a dizzying effect on Impaz.

"Impaz," the guard calls as he enters the room. His back is straight and his chin is held with immense dignity. "It would appear you have been given false information about who is in the dungeon. There is no man in there that was brought in this morning. I spoke with the dungeon keep and he said that there has not been a single man brought in since the first of the month."

"Lies," Naborin spits through her scarf.

The guard arches a haughty eyebrow her way. "Pardon me, dear sir?" The guard crosses his arms looking down at Naborin.

"I was there," she says quickly, trying to deepen her voice as she reminds herself to keep her eyes to the floor. "I watched as the men took him away." Her eyes dart up for a moment for she has been taught to make eye contact when addressing someone. She quickly regrets it as he looks back at her. "The girl confessed to me that she was only looking to have him taken away. The man had no intentions with her. She lied." Naborin shifts uncomfortably as both the guard and Impaz listen to her words. "I know by fact there was a young man brought in here this morning." Naborin shakes her head while lowering her eyes, "You, yourself have either been given false information or you are simply lying to us both—in which case I believe neither the king nor queen would appreciate."

"Even if I were lying, _son_—," the guard lowers his voice to a whisper, "—I doubt either of them would appreciate a Gerudo in their own home."

Impaz pushes the two apart as Naborin takes two quick steps towards the guard as she raises her head with her jaw jutted forward. Tension is smoldering in the air, it can almost be waved away like smoke from a fire.

"Listen guard," Impaz says with a curled upper lip. "I need to speak with that man. He has been falsely imprisoned, and I doubt the king would be pleased with the knowledge of an innocent being in his dungeon."

"Find someone else, for I cannot be of service to you and your—," the guard looks Naborin up and down with disgust, "—_fellow Sheikah_."

Impaz grips Naborin's shoulders as the young Gerudo juts towards the guard as if to attack him. Naborin grunts as the pull makes her fall back slightly. Impaz turns the young Gerudo towards her and whispers, "We'll find him. Don't worry."

Naborin nods and straightens her back as Impaz leads the way out of the hall. They walk down countless corridors all decorated with paintings of portraits and landscapes. Impaz keeps her head high and proud, though the loss of her brother makes her eyes water and nose run.

The Fallen Sheikah slows her pace and turns to Naborin slightly. "Perhaps the queen would know of him and his whereabouts," she sighs as she scratches her head and tucks away her bangs behind her ears. Naborin nods and follows closely as Impaz leads the way to a set of stairs and down another corridor.

As they make their way past a guard and into the queen's bedchambers, Naborin grips Impaz's arm as if in fear. The two approach the bed slowly and bow as the queen stands from her bed.

"Impaz," the queen kneels to the floor and grips the Fallen Sheikah into a hug, "I am so sorry for your loss!" The queen presses Impaz's face into her chest. Though Impaz is shocked, something about being in the warm, comforting arms of the queen makes her walls break down. Her body shakes like an earthquake, her cries are muted though they carry the deepest, unheard pain Naborin has ever witnessed.

Naborin keeps to her knee, fearing to offend the royal blood if she chose to stand before she was given the word to do so. She keeps her eyes on the floor, pressing one hand on the old oak and the other across her chest.

"Your Grace," Impaz says as she pulls away wiping her nose. The queen looks to the young Sheikah with care and worry imprinted in her eyes. "There was a boy—a young man—brought into the dungeon this morning. He has been falsely imprisoned—you must let him out, Your Grace!" Impaz coughs out in her cries.

The queen looks to the Fallen Sheikah, all she sees is a broken-hearted little girl, a child in the midst of a brutal world—a world with little forgiveness and filled to the brim with disappointment and hash truths. She knows of the young man Impaz seeks, but to tell her where Kimble went would cost more than what she is willing to give up. Impaz may not be her own blood, but she is in every way her daughter.

"Do you know of him, Your Grace?" Impaz pleads as she wipes another tear away.

"He is doing what he needs to do to save our people, Impaz." The queen places her hand on the Skeikah's cheek with a soft smile. "Telling you where he went will make no difference. His fate has been written, and so has yours. You may not follow him." The queen turns her head to Naborin and sends her soft raspy voice to the Gerudo, "And nor shall you." Naborin lowers her head quickly at the words.

"Tell me where he went," Impaz says with little demand. Her heart can feel that where Kimble went may kill him, it may keep him, it may torcher him, and she wishes to help though her logic is telling her to listen and stay far from where he is.

The queen stands from the floor and turns back to her bed where her beautiful son lies between the pillows. She clutches her hands together and brings them to her chest with a huff of breath. "He is in a very dangerous place, Impaz."

The Fallen Sheikah stands from the floor and pulls at Naborin to stand as well. "You must understand that I am the reason… I never meant for him to be placed in any sort of danger," Naborin bows her head as she addresses the queen.

"Gerudo, I should be thanking you for leading him here. You have no reason for guilt. The goddesses will protect him," the queen smiles with a cocked head. Naborin straightens her back and slacks her jaw as Impaz gives the queen the same astonished look as the Gerudo. "I knew you two would come and search for him," she nods with wise eyes and a smile that makes creases form around her mouth and eyes. "But you must fight all feelings away that tell you to follow him. Like I said, it is dangerous—if you follow, you will be placed in mortal danger."

Naborin lowers her head and drops her shoulders. Impaz nods, though curiosity keeps her from heeding the queen's warning—the Sheikah were after all very curious beings.

"Now go back to Kakariko—the both of you. I cannot trust either of you to keep things in order. I mean no offence of course," the queen nods and places a delicate hand on Impaz's shoulder.

"Of course, Your Grace," Impaz nods again. She then leads the way out from the room. Naborin carries her head low and shakes it slowly from side to side as if she is disagreeing with herself. They walk back down the staircase and through the many corridors, but stop just before the corridor meets with the foyer of the castle.

Impaz halts abruptly making Naborin bump into her. Impaz turns to her quickly, a new light in her eyes burning bright and growing rapidly. She opens her mouth before she finds her words causing her to close and then swallow before making a noise.

"Before we leave, we will search every room, every corner, and every corridor. I want to be sure Kimble is not here."

"I know where Kimble is," a small voice coming from behind the two says. Impaz turns her gaze from Naborin and to the corridor where a door to the right hangs open with a small timid face looks up at the two.

Impaz arches an eyebrow and looks to the small child. She takes a step towards the girl and squats on the ground. "Princess Daphne, why aren't you with your father?"

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**Just so you guys know, I didn't intend for my "apology" to be that long.**

**Anyway, if you guys want me to do a briefing in later chapters, I have no problem with that. Just let me know :)**

**If you are confuses, let me know about that too, I will try to clear things up as soon as you let me know.**

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**And by the way, I didn't die from my sickness... just thought I would let you all know considering my last chapter I said I was sick.**

**I got over it. I am healthy now :D**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	15. Chapter 15: Courageous Enough?

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

"The giant lady told me I could help you," Princess Daphne smiles, looking into the crimson eyes of Impaz. "She said that you and your friend would be looking for Kimble," she adds.

"What giant lady?" Impaz shrugs.

The princess's sapphire eyes open wide. "The giant lady with magenta hair!" she exclaims. Impaz's brows furrows deeper. "She said that Kimble would need your help—that he would be in d-die-die—," the child lowers her head thinking of the word, "—dire trouble without you two with him!"

Impaz rises from the floor and places her hands on her hips. Her mind is rolling at high speeds, though her belief to the princess's words is low. She tucks a strand of white hair behind her ears and sighs.

"Where is he?" she finally asks. The princess stays silent. "Princess Daphne—," Impaz arches a brow her way, "—where is he?"

The little girl brings her index finger to her lips and hushes the glorified nanny. She then races down the corridor making the two young women chase her up multiple stair case and through endless corridors. The princess screeches in laughter as Impaz hollers for her to slow down.

When the Fallen Sheikah and Gerudo have finally caught up to the child, they stand before an old door; the oak carved with intricate designs, in the centre, the Hylian Royal Crest stands proud. Naborin traces her fingers over the design, the ripples and grooves acting like a maze, guiding her flesh into dead ends and making them go back the way they came in order to complete the labyrinth.

"This where Kimble is?" Impaz looks down at Princess Daphne. The child nods slowly, even she is aware of the danger that lurks behind the door. "How do we get it?" Impaz reaches for the knob and shrugs as the door does not budge.

Princess Daphne holds her hand open to reveal a single key. "The giant lady told me to give it to you." The child lowers her head and allows her sadness to show for a moment. She looks back up to Impaz. "Is Kimble going to be okay?" she asks, her bottom lip quivering like a dam ready to burst.

Impaz presses the child against her in a hug. She then lowers herself to Daphne's height. "I will do everything in my power to make sure he is." Impaz pulls the child away to look her in the eye. "I promise everything will be alright."

Naborin and Impaz then look onto the door. Princess Daphne watches as Impaz takes the key and inserts it into the hole, there is a click and then Impaz proceeds to twist the key. The young woman then turns the knob and opens the door. Cool air greets both her and the Gerudo, the scent of dampness and dust tickles their noses and the low orange glow of the sunset gives an eerie feel to the attic room.

Impaz takes a deep breath and enters the room, the click of her boots hitting the wood echo out to the corridor. Naborin follows slowly, cautious as to what may be waiting on the other side of the door. As Impaz walks further and deeper, Naborin's strides become more confident and sure, allowing her to venture away from Impaz.

"He went through here—," the two turn to see Princess Daphne point to a large mirror. The child walks towards it and stands behind it, fear keeping her from looking into the glass.

"How could he have gone through a mirror?" Naborin asks more to herself than to anyone else in the room. The two of them take long, slow strides to the decorative piece and eye it up. Impaz is the first to notice her reflection is gone along with Naborin's as well. She does not point it out for she does not wish to startle any of the girls.

"How did he go through?" Impaz shrugs. Her eyes keep locked on the glass, hoping—wishing they will see her staring back, though they do not. She shivers slightly as she wonders what kind of sorcery could be causing the absence of her and Naborin's reflections.

"The giant lady told me you would have to find out for yourself… she said it was a test to see if you were truly the ones to help him." The princess leans on the mirror's back, poking her head out to the opening. Her large eyes keep on Impaz and Naborin, waiting for one of them to make a breakthrough.

"Who is this _giant lady_?" Impaz tears her eyes from the mirror and onto the child.

"She was tall, and had pink hair!" the child exclaims as she walks away from the mirror. "Vines ran up her body like she was a flower…," the girl continues, but Naborin pays most of her attention on the mirror.

The lone Gerudo narrows her eyes and approaches the glass, her steps more cautious than they were when she first entered the room. Naborin places her olive fingers on the mirror's frame, careful as if the entire piece were made of a fine, delicate crystal. Her flesh slowly makes its way to the glass, ever careful, yet determined to find the entrance. Her eyebrows furrow as she feels a strange sensation, almost cooling, but warm and humid. The glass beneath her fingertips seems to swallow her skin. Her eyes widen in more shock than fear, her heart racing with each passing nanosecond.

"Impaz," she squeaks, her voice nearly a whisper.

The Fallen Sheikah turns to her. It is almost too late to see the Gerudo for by the time Impaz sees her; the young woman's body has nearly completely entered the mirror. Impaz grips the girl's waist, and soon, the both of them are gone. Sucked in through the glass, almost completely vulnerable to the force the mirror seems to give off.

Poor Princess Daphne helplessly watches as the two are torn into the glass. The young child covers her eyes, her mouth is dropped open releasing a scream she is unaware of. Tears bead in her eyes and tumble down her cheeks. Her face reddens and her throat grows raw, all while the horrific site unfolds before her.

Suddenly, there is a calming silence in the attic. The air is much like after a storm; silent, yet capable of stirring at the slightest movement. Princess Daphne uncovers her eyes and sees that the room is like it was before—all that is missing is Impaz and Naborin. The child lets out a small whimper and then races out of the room in a fit of hysteria and tears.

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Kimble walks through the small forest. He keeps his ears open for Stamok'sy Opsi's loud, thundering marching, and also watches every movement his eyes catch. This land is strange to him, though, somehow, familiar.

He sees the entrance to the grove. His heart hammers for a moment as he realizes this is the very thing—well, more of a replica of what—his own great-grandfather had done so many, many years before him. Kimble pushes back his bang as it falls onto his face. As his feet make their way closer and closer into the grove, he can see the glisten of the blade which evil may never touch.

His heart pounds even harder than Opsi's marching. The scenery is surreal. Birds fly in the luminous glow of the trees, the leafs of the trees almost seem blue with the eerie flush. The grass cushions his footsteps, even when his knees weaken from the sheer glory of the Master Sword. Something seems to call him, give him courage, supply him with wisdom, and grant him power.

His hands fumble slightly as they slide along the grip of the blade. He stables his feet as his grip tightens. Kimble takes a deep breath before raising his arms to pull the blade from its resting place.

Just as the blade rises, the grove he stands in darkens, the glow from the trees and grass fades rapidly, and all Kimble can feel is a cold blast of wind. Though he feels triumphant and proud of the fact he is the blade's new master, reality has settled in. The surreal feeling has left and now he knows he will have to maintain courage and fight for a land he has never known and in return, fighting for his own countries safety.

Kimble wanders out of the grove while trying to find a comfortable way to hold the blade; it is bulky and long in comparison to the ones his people use. Rather than traveling back the way he came, Kimble wanders further to the west, hoping to find others. His eyes keep on the dark track, for looking to the brush for only a moment would cause one to find themselves lost and unable to find their way back.

The colourful birds seem to have dissipated; all that is left are black bats and circling crows. He keeps his eyes on the black bats as much as he can. The last thing he needs are bats coming after him in this place. Even in the darkness of the forest, somehow, there remains a luminous light—as if it were guiding Kimble to his next destination.

Though cautious, he walks quickly—well, more of a slight jog. With each caw of the crows, his pace becomes faster, his heartbeat pounds harder, and his breathing quickens. Kimble has become a slave to panic—even the batting of the animals' wings makes him flinch. When he believes he has neared the end of the forest, he finds he has only walked in a circle. He is back where he met the little girl from the forest.

Kimble turns quickly at the sound of thunder—rapid thunder. He quickly finds his way into a thick brush of bushes fearing Stamok'sy Opsi is close. He searches for movement and soon catches it. Kimble sees the immense figure of the monster hunched over something; he hears a tearing—almost wet—sound. There is a chewing, a chomp and then more chewing. Kimble strains his neck to see what Opsi is doing, and finds that it would have been best to keep the image to his imagination. The monster's 'face' is covered in a dark ooze, most likely blood, the thing that Stamok'sy Opsi eats it laying stiller than a statue—half eaten bones discarded on the grass. There is a slurping noise as Opsi sucks out the marrow from what appears to be a femur.

Kimble Link lowers back to the ground. His mind races to Saria, his heart cries out hoping the forever-child is safe and it is not she who lays at mercy of the monster's feverish meal. There is a crackle behind Kimble. He jumps and spins towards the source and finds a crow jumping from branch to branch on one of the trees. He clutches his heart and releases a sigh as he turns back to Stamok'sy Opsi.

Kimble Link nearly let out a shriek. Ospi was gone, and all that remained was the torn carcass and ripped bones the monster left for the crows. The young hero took a deep breath; one of his hands reached his face and smothered his mouth and nose as if to keep from emitting another near peep. His eyes search the open area, the forest floor is too dark to keep his eyes on one particular spectrum, but he does his best to see movement.

The hero turns his head once more as he hears the crow coo out—as if a warning. His eyes widen as they connect with the deep frown of Stamok'sy Opsi opens wide, flashing its teeth as a dog snarls, right in front of Kimble's face. It growls in a deafening low groan. Kimble Link fumbles the blade as he tries to step away. He lets out a struggles cry as he gets tangled and falls back into the thick brush. The awful stench of the monster's breath—a mixture of rotting fish and dry birch bark—it is enough to make Kimble dry heave. He wipes his mouth as saliva drips down the corners of his mouth. Fear will not give him mercy; he is paralyzed, unaware of the very real danger that lurks before him. Dost the hero choose to fight; dost he have courage enough to defeat the evil that stands before him?

* * *

Naborin can feel Impaz's arms around her. They are tight, restricting, and ultimately forgoing. Soon, the arms disappear, and Naborin feels herself falling. The temperature around her rises, the heat is nearly unbearable—it makes her skin instantaneously perpetrate. The air that flows around her is even hot, so much so she is afraid she may burst into flames whilst falling into the abyss.

She opens her eyes and the area brightens into a vibrant red. The walls seem to carry an ominous orange—like a flame, as if it were foreshadowing her death. She reaches her hands out, not willing to die like this, though; her hope fades quickly when she catches nothing but air. Naborin's eyes look down and cannot see the bottom. This is a terrible way to die—so much time to think about the particular moment and so helpless.

* * *

Impaz feels wetness engulf her body, air being the only thing she wishes for. Her lungs ache with each passing second and her arms and legs growing weaker with each stroke to find the surface. The water that surrounds her is nearly black; dirt and leaves swirl around her as she continues her fight to breath.

She knows that if she stays in the below freezing water for much longer, her body will give up, her diaphragm will no longer wait for oxygen and she will most inevitably die. Impaz's ancient eyes can see the light of the surface, but her arms and legs are heavy, tired, and unwilling to communicate with her mind. Bubbles fly out her mouth as she releases a scream of frustration—a scream meant for only the direst of times. Her eyes feel as though they will pop out, the surface so close yet just out of reach. Her body will simply not agree with her. Sane thoughts do not flood her brain, instinct is what drives her.

* * *

**Alright, so, as you can see, it looks like there just might be four different stories going on now... of course, all tying in eventually.**

**I honestly cannot wait to finish this. I have a bit of a surprise and such at the end.**

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**There is a shout out I would like to do. _LEva114_ has quite a few stories under her belt, so really, any of them would be a good read, but one in particular you should take the time to look at is _Marionette_. It is twisted on so many levels, I love it.**

**I meant to say something about the story either last chapter or the one before, but forgot to. Anyway, she will be writing a follow up to it, and I think it would be an awesome idea for you all to check it out. She has been kind enough to give me exclusive information which I have been given permission to share with all wonderful little doves.**

**The working title is either going to be Blind or Oblivion-so you know it will be good and twisted. Please take note, it will be rated M, so unless you are prepared for some good gore, keep a mindful eye on what you may be clicking on.**

**Please, take the time and look her up, she is a wonderful author on here with awesome stories to share.**

* * *

**Now, Question time!-Which I know there are probably a million and one I could ask.**

**1) Will Kimble Link be able to take down the monstrous Stamok'sy Opsi, or will he let fear overtake him?**

**2) Is Naborin going to be falling for a good long time before she dies, or will she a) save herself, b) be fortunate enough to have someone save her, or c) ... to be blunt, die?**

**3) How about that Impaz? I don't think she's the type to give up, but that's my opinion. What do you think? Will she give in? Will she fight her tired muscles and pull through to the surface?**

**Man... I left you guys on a sort of cliffhanger... **

**OH!**

**4) How do you think Princess Daphne is doing after bearing witness to Impaz and Naborin's sudden vacuum suck into the mirror?**

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**Anyway, as always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	16. Chapter 16: A Swamp, A Pit, And Ospi

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Have I lost some of my readers? Well, to be more specific, my reviewers?**

**I know I have readers—I have evidence of that. New ones to be exact. **

**Why not review new readers? What could it hurt? If you are enjoying this story, say so. If you would have done something different, please—by all means—say so. I love feedback, it is one of the many ways to keep one's writing evolving. **

**Sorry... I'll keep to myself now... go and read the chapter, that's what you're here for!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

Naborin reaches out to the walls; her will for stability is all too great. Impaz pushes herself to the surface; her need for air bringing a second wind to her. Kimble brings his feet up and kicks Stamok'sy Opsi back; his wish for space makes his fear fall to the backburner of his mind.

Impaz is the first to succeed in her challenge. She thrusts to the top and gasps for air. Coughs emit from her as she struggles to gain back her air. She clutches her chest and convulses sporadically as she forces herself to remain above the water and continue to breathe the precious air. Her splashing causes water to make its way into her lungs which, in turn, causes her to splash and cough more. Impaz's eyes dance around new the environment as her vision pulses from red to orange to black and back from the coughing.

The land around her is mucky and dark, swamp-like—if you will. It takes her a moment to swim to the land, each kick and paddle with her arms causes them to burn and cry out to cease movement. Her feet finally touch the mud on the bottom of the swamp, making her nearly tumble over at the sudden solidity below.

She crawls to the dry grounds, breathless and broken, unwilling to go further but knowing she is far too vulnerable at the water's edge. She rolls onto the rocky, mucky ground, thankful for the oxygen. Impaz closes her eyes and rests her hand on her chest, insuring she is in fact breathing. A warm breeze chills her as it makes the wet clothes around her reach a temperature more cooling than that of the water she was just in.

After one final assurance of breath, she pulls herself up, sitting with her feet still lying in the water. Something is off in this strange place. She does not know if she feels this because its lack of life or because of the close brush with death. Impaz stands to her wobbling feet, slicks her hair back and tighten her loose, fallen ponytail.

Though there is a breeze, the trees cease in making any noise—in actuality, there is no sound; only her heart hammering and her obnoxious inhales and exhales. The ruby eyes of the Fallen Sheikah scan the swamp once more as if hoping to find someone—anyone else, but her heart sinks as she sees the dark, looming trees and muddy grounds. If there was a moment in her fourteen years of life that she was truly scared, now would be that moment.

Impaz crosses her arms as if to hide her vulnerability, as if she, herself, was afraid something was watching her. There is a glow from the water making the shadows of the swamp dance and sashay. Everything seems so perfect in a very unsettling and eerie way.

In Impaz's mind, she never entered the mirror. In her mind, she was merely in the castle and then in this swamp, there was simply no recollection of being sucked into the glass—no in between, and for the moment, there was no reason to dwell on it. Remembering the ordeal could perhaps cause the young woman to be struck with a sudden case of lunacy. Impaz wanders to the east of the swamp where rocks sit undisturbed for only goddesses know how long. She seats herself on them, looking out on the waters, hoping—praying—someone will find her.

She curls around herself, bringing her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees. Impaz is brave no longer, she is neither mature nor mentally stable enough to handle this sort of situation and it only causes her to shut down.

It is a self defence mechanism, though few chose it. There are three options for moments like these; flight, fight, or, what our dearest Impaz has chosen, freeze. She cannot bear with the idea of being alone is such an isolated and unfamiliar area nor can she drive herself on. Her choice could have been due to her depression of her brother's death, or perhaps it was simply how she was made—a defect in her survival instincts. All that can truly be sure of this is that she sat there on those rocks for a very, very long time before sh broke out of her paralysis shell.

* * *

Naborin uses the fall to her advantage, narrowing herself out so she is in control of the fall to a varying degree. She makes her way to the walls of the pit, though too quickly. Her right shoulder and side scrape along the jagged rock giving her no moment to actually grip it. She tries again, determination ruling over mortal injury. This time, she is prepared for the blow from the wall, reaching her hands and feet out to absorb the shock. She tries to grip at any nook and cranky her fingers can touch. Naborin lets out a holler as her fingertips become raw and grisly from the scraping of the stone. She wishes to let go, to give up, but will is a strong thing in a Gerudo's eye. She pushes herself, forces herself to continue even when the abrasions cause blood to seep down her hands and onto her arms.

Naborin finally succeeds in securing herself. The sudden stop causes her to jar and bounce like a ragdoll, her hand merely holding onto a three inch rock protruding from the wall. She whimpers slightly as her shoulder cracks. Her eyes look skyward, trying to see a light, an opening for which she can hope to climb to, but they do not. Above her is darkness, no sign of an escape from this hellishly heated pit; below—she does not look for she wishes to not go down fearing her skin may burst into flames with being a centimeter further from where she hangs.

Her hand instinctively reaches up and catches a new rock allowing her other to stop supporting her. Her feet such for an edge so she may relax her muscles, but they do not accomplish such a matter; now is when she feels her luck may be running a little too low. She grunts as she reaches for a new slab of rock, the wetness on her fingers cause her grip to fade, though Naborin wishes not to give up on her own life.

She reaches up again and again and again, each rock seemingly further apart causing her to stretch and swing with muscles she simply does not have. The young Gerudo manages to find a spot for one of her feet and with that she chooses not to rest, instead, she uses the edge for leverage, jumping up so she may reach a new rock.

Her hand lands around it with a grip tighter than a noose. Her body slams against to stone roughly for she wishes not to use her energy to stop it. She must preserve as much as she can for this climb. It seems to be getting easy—the climb that is. Naborin has found a rhythm, a beat, a pulse to keep herself going. Sweat falls from her furrowed brow and slides down the side of her face but she continues knowing that at some point she will be safe again, whether it be on the surface or out of the mirror.

Naborin only keeps her amber eyes on what is in front of her fingers, keeping her mind on which position would be best to reach the rock, which foot would be better suited for slab, and, of course, what kind of verbal beating she would shoot off towards the first person she sees. Her mind thrives on that last though—she almost hopes it is Impaz she sees, then she can unleash on the Fallen Sheikah for releasing Naborin from her arms. Oh, how Impaz will rue that moment—

Surface. Naborin nearly shrieks with joy at the sudden flatness her fingers lay on. She shimmies her footing and places her other hand up, stretching them as wide as she can to determine if the space is big enough for her to get into. The shocked hands then go as deep as they can. With anticipation eating away at her, Naborin pulls herself up with a restrained groan. Just as she pulls herself high enough for her eyes to see the small cavern, her muscles fail her, but that does not keep her from seeing a pair of boots standing a few inches from her nose.

Once again, she is falling. Once again, the heat is burning her. Once again, she is defeated. Though, this time, there is a new aspect to her fall. There was someone standing before her eyes, whether it be man or woman, surely they could help her.

Naborin lets out a desperate scream within the first few moments of her fall, hoping that person would have a heat and try to bring her back to safety somehow. Before her mind can tell her she has no more energy for the climb, there is a snag. Naborin stops falling, but she feels an immense pressure on her abdomen where a hooked rope seems to have wrapped around tightly.

She lets out a deep and painful ugh as she holds herself where the pressure lies. Naborin looks up and sees the rope leads to that very edge she had seen the boots. Suddenly the rope around her waist does not feel so bad after all. The rope begins to creak as whoever holds the other end pulls up. The Gerudo holds the twisted twine for safety since the twine seems to be worn a little too thin for her liking. It does not take long for the puller to have Naborin nearly back to where she slipped. The pulling stops once she sits just below.

"You have to climb up," a voice says in a hushed tone. "Just stable yourself on the wall and I'll pull you until you are stable." Naborin does as the voice directs. She uses her legs to push herself away from the wall and positions her feet as if she were going to walk up the wall. Suddenly, the pulling begins again and she walks up the wall as she would with stairs. Naborin's hands still grip the rope, though not for safety any longer, but for support.

"There we go," chuckles the voice as Naborin nearly falls to the oasis of the cavern. Her legs are tucked under her and she supports herself with her hands as she collapses over. She is tired, more so than she thought she was ever capable of being. Sweat glues stray hairs to her face and neck as she breath the hot air. It isn't until her golden eyes look up that she feels a new burst of energy at the flash of the familiar person standing before her.

* * *

Stamok'sy Opsi's dark eyes stare at Kimble, for a moment, the monster does not make a noise—as if it is confused by our hero's presence. Kimble steals the moment, jabbing the Master Sword into the beast's upper chest. Stamok'sy Opsi releases a howl meant for only devils to hear; it makes Kimble grip his ears and moan in pain.

Opsi steps back and swings its arms in a mad spree of anger and agony. Kimble watches it as it dances with the blade. Stamok'sy Opsi's arms try to brush away the sword, but they only twist the blade and make it go deeper. Blood blacker than the scales of Demise race down from the wound and stain the best's skin, it howls and screams, begging to be freed from this utter pain.

Kimble continues to watch Stamok'sy Opsi in its final Waltz for one. Suddenly, the monster charges at the hero, anger and desperation telling it that Kimble is the one who can free him—and if not, he will be the one to suffer for this poor beast's pain. Ospi swings one powerful arm across before Kimble can dodge. He flies through the air and out of the bushes, falling hard on the grass. His head spins and his body vibrates with vex.

Before the young man can stand back to his feet, Stamok'sy Opsi is towering over him. The monster reaches down and wraps its hands around Kimble's body, tightening and squeezing the hero from his very breath. Opsi continues to tighten its grip, an evil grin growing more and more on his deep, guttural mouth. Kimble Link's visions fades in and out with the lack of air. His head spins further as he tries to wriggle his arms free.

Stamok'sy Opsi releases a noise so uncannily close to a laugh; it sends shivers racing down Kimble's body. It tightens its grip more so, binding Kimble from movement further. The world around him begins to fade, his motives dissipating and his fight dying. Kimble's head lulls to the left. Opsi drops the hero to the forest floor—watches him curiously as Kimble lies without movement—and then drags the body through the trees and brush.

* * *

**Oh my god... a new chapter so soon?**

**Whoa. Crazy. I honestly don't believe it either.**

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**Anyway... this was the chapter. Obviously... **

**Just out of curiosity, how many people can guess who the person is Naborin saw?**

**I bet you all can get it. I know I got the answer right... seeing as I'm the one who bears the actual answer...**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	17. Chapter 17: Faces of the Past

**Disclaimer****: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

* * *

**Fragments of Fervor**

"You should be careful," whispers a low feminine voice. Impaz turns to her left, towards the voice's origin. "Never once have I seen this in a Sheikah," the voice announces in a sort of disappointment. "Is this what my people have become?" it questions angrily. "Nothing more than a lump on the rocks moaning about what has died and what is gone—pitiful!"

Impaz feels hot tears build in her eyes. Still, the voice's body is nowhere to be seen. "Do you think I was like you when I learnt I was the last of my people? Do you think I could have become what I am today without fighting every urge in my body telling me to stop?" A silhouette appears before the tree brush. "My people are proud. My people are a paragon of honour and discipline. Who are you? Why have you been sent to me?" The woman steps closer, her stance rather too aggressive for Impaz's liking. The woman is tall and svelte; short, white hair is tied back tightly, and her face is perfect, homely would be the very opposite of her.

"My name is Impaz, leader of the Fallen Sheikahs," Impaz announces, wiping her nose as the tears release themselves from her crimson eyes.

The woman stares down at Impaz. Her back is straighter than an arrow and she carries an elegance that would put even the queen to shame. "Named after me," she remarks, a small grin pulling at her lips. "Are you worthy of being your people's leader?"

Impaz shakes her head. "My brother should have been the leader," she cries.

"Pull yourself together." The woman looks down at the small girl. "If you were not meant to be a leader then you would not have shown up in my domain." The woman lowers herself to the rocks and sticks her hand out. "Impa, last of the Sheikahs and Sage of Shadow," she declares just after the girl grips her hand.

Impaz pushes herself from the rocks and bows down on her knees, pressing her forehead onto the cool rock below. "Forgive me, mother," Imapz begs.

"Mother?" Impa makes a face and straightens.

Impaz keeps her head to the stone. "Yes, Mother of the Fallen Sheikah, without you, there would be no more people to carry on our oath to the royal family."

"Rise," Impa laughs with a swing of her arm. "I am no mother," she snorts—though she indeed was, a very long time ago. "Tell me Impaz," Impa nods, "why have you come here and how did you get here?"

"I-I-I don't know," Impaz murmurs.

Impa takes a deep breath. "Did you come here through the mirror?" she asks, taking a step closer to the girl. Her intimidation has no effect on Impaz who stays as silent as a mouse. "I need to know, Impaz. If you came through the mirror that means there is a way to get out." She shakes her head and turns away. "Some things in here do not deserve to see the light of day." Impa turns back. "Was it the mirror?"

"I don't know," Impaz repeats.

* * *

Kimble awakens with a gasp of breath and a fit of agony. His sides are bruised and his arms and legs are immobile due to the pain. He lets out shallow whimpers as he feels his body more and more with each second. Never has he felt such a searing pain in all his life. He tries to lift his head up enough to see his surroundings, but that only causes his suffering to deepen. He drops his head back down to the ground, his eyes not capable of focussing on any bit of what is neither above nor beside him. Everything is dark, darker than dark, and terribly cold.

Kimble Link lets out a blood curdling scream as he remembers his last waking moments. Could Opsi have swallowed him? Is this what death is? He hollers for a long time, incapable of silencing himself. He wills one of his hands to feel around. It is neither wet nor soft like he would think a stomach would feel like. No, instead it is cold and hard, like lying on a floor of marble.

"Boy," a voice calls. "Boy, wake up."

Kimble shakes his head, "If I am awake, I wish not to be." He lulls his head to the side and sniffles as the agony fills his body once more making his stifle a new scream. "I… I can speak," he announces in a quiet voice.

"Only here," corrects the voice and then a hand is held above Kimble to help him up. "Get up," the voice commands.

"I cannot," Kimble says with defeat.

"Get up, boy," it demands with more authority.

"I cannot get up!" Kimble argues, spits flies from his mouth as the pain deepens and deepens.

The hand leaves his view. "If you wish not to help yourself, how do you expect others to help you? And," the voice says louder, "how do you expect to help everyone else?"

Kimble shakes his head dully, afraid to cause more pain than he already has. "I am paralyzed. Even if I wished to stand I would be incapable of doing so—,"

"Are you so sure of that?" the voice calls. Kimble looks at his body and watches as his hands have raised themselves without any pain to his own words. "The mind is a powerful thing Kimble. Best use it for good rather than bad, wouldn't you say?" The hand reappears above him. "Pain is only of the mind. If you can get over that obstacle, then you will be able to accomplish anything in this realm." The hand lifts him as to Kimble sees the bearer of the voice.

The man stands nearly a foot taller than he. He is armour-clad and glistens like a star from the freshly polished steal. His helm is funny, bearing spokes coming from both sides and above. Kimble watches him queerly, not quite sure what to make of the man.

"So you are the new Link," the man says, his sapphire eyes looking Kimble up and down. "Bearer of the Master Sword and all; quite the honour, isn't it?"

Kimble looks up at the man. His face is long and narrow, slightly aged—but still relatively young for a man to be garnished in such decorative armour—, his hair is bright blonde and stingy, it sticks out of his helm with defiance, his nose is long and pointed and doesn't suit his smooth face. "Who are you?" Kimble finally asks.

The man's lips part and then he smiles. "No matter," he says as he pats Kimble's back. "You were sent here for a purpose, weren't you?"

"From what I remember…" Kimble shakes his head. "The queen asked me to defeat some kind of evil in the mirror—and the little girl—Saria—,"

"I know," the man says in a deep bellow.

"Oh Goddesses, is she alright?" Kimble asks with a squeak of his voice at the thought of the image prior to being in the grip of Opsi.

The man nods his head. "She was never harmed. I made sure of that."

Kimble nods and lowers his head. His eyes slowly look back up to the man and he cocks his head. "Why do you look so familiar?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.

"I have one of those faces," the man announces. "You were touched by Stamok'sy Opsi," he says, quickly changing the subject. "You do remember what Saria told you, don't you?"

Kimble's face lightens and his heart skips a beat. "Am I stuck here?"

"No," the man says. "Certain things here you will not be able to touch anymore, as she said. If anyone from the other side of the looking glass steps in—be warned—you will not be able to touch them. In fact, if you recognize anyone and you touch them—be it intentionally or not—you will be stuck here." The man grips the hilt of his blade. "The enemy, Stamoksy' Opsi and the others, you can touch—in fact I encourage you to. There is no other way of defeating them."

"How do I defeat them?" Kimble asks in a small voice, not quite sure he has the bravery to do as his queen asked.

The man turns away. "You must slice open their chest and take out their heart. When you have done so, the beast's black heart will erupt into flame. Depending on which monster you destroy, it will free their designated turf from their wrath." The man turns back to him and tucks a strand of hair back into his helm. "The first beast I suggest you destroy is Opsi. He will be the easiest. When you have done so, I wish for you to come back to me in this cave." He grips his belt and smiles. "I will teach you all that I can about dueling."

"What if I cannot defeat Stamok'sy Opsi?" Kimble shrugs with the question.

The man's teeth flash in his grin for a moment. "Have faith my dear boy; you will."

* * *

"How are things going with the fight against Ganondorf?" Her Grace questions as her husband steps into the bedchamber to steal a glance of their new son. His eyes do not leave the bassinet. The king's finger is under the tiny grip of the small babe, he fears to move for it may cause this new son discomfort. Her Grace dances across the floor and rests her chin on the king's shoulder whilst wrapping her arms around him. "That bad," she sighs, snuggling her cheek under his ear. "How many have we lost?"

"Over nine thousand." The king shakes his head. "Ganondorf and his woman army are much too strong. The Gerudos—," the king turns his head, "—they are completely heartless. They slay our men like they are cancerous fiends." Prince Zeldan releases his father's finger. The king straightens his back, rising to his full height—towering over the queen and perhaps even over Ganondorf.

He twists himself towards his wife, his queen, Zelda. His hand rises and touches her chin, raising her jaw so her eyes look into his. Force and arrogance were only reserved for the battlefield, here in his castle; he was only the gentlest of hearts. His queen could see this; she had once bore witness to his aggressive nature and was struck with a fear far greater than any she had ever felt. It was at that point that the dear king decided to kill with kindness in the eyes of his great love.

"Our scouts have seen groups of Gerudos parading to the north and east, I have good reason to think they wish to come here." His eyes shoot to the floor. "They've been circling us for weeks, my queen. I have never once in my life feared for our wellbeing, but tonight—," his eyes hold a distance that chills Her Grace, "—something is not right. No Gerudo group has spent over a month camping. They're planning something."

"Let us hope it is a party," Her Grace says in a charming voice with sarcasm. The king does not smile but only furrow his brow further. The queen purses her lips and sighs. "By the look on your face, I am guessing you wish to evacuate the castle—,"

"No—," the king shakes his head, "—only the ones who matter; Zelta, Daphne, Nohan, Zeldan, and yourself, my queen."

"If you truly wished to protect our family, you would only send me away. We know what Ganondorf wants. It has nothing to do with neither the children nor yourself." Queen Zelda keeps her eyes locked with his—as only a strong woman can. "He wishes for me."

"If you understood the importance of yourself, Zelda, you would wish not to be sent out alone where that fiend could snatch you up into his wicked arms."

"No, instead I want to go with my children and put myself in danger along with them. My king, I know we have discussed this issue many of times in our younger years, but now we have children. They are our first priority. Keep them safe and everything will be fine." Her Grace Cups her hand on her husband's cheek. "If I am the cause for your concern, I will leave—but only myself."

The king sadly smiles down at her. "You are a tough woman to negotiate with, my love."

Queen Zelda kisses his cheek. "You are just a stubborn, my dove."

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**Hello!**

**I know this is a little too far between the other chapters, but hopefully I made some of you happy.**

**I intentionally left Naborin out of the equation for a reason... :D**

**Anyway, If you have any question, by all means, ask away!**

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**As always, reviews are much welcomed!**


	18. Chapter 18: Bring Them To Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters. This is a story I have created and not a part in anyway making me money... I am poor... and possibly more so now having written this...**

**Anyway, please enjoy, and if you find that I have any problems, misspellings, or even if I am terrible at this, tell me... but be respectful. Hope you like it!**

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**Fragments of Fervor**

All at once Naborin wishes to cry, she wishes to laugh, and she wishes to scream. She does the latter first and then laughter mixes with the cries.

"Hey," he whispers, lowering himself as she still lies on the ground. His hand reaches out to touch her, but he hesitates and ultimately lowers it beside her arm. "Everything is alright," he smiles, brushing his fingers through his own hair.

Naborin pushes herself from the ground with all her effort and a groan. She wipes her face and sniffles as she looks up at him, barely believing her own vision. "H-how are you here?" she asks, her voice trembling and threatening another burst of laughter mixed with tears. Jericho's shrugs, though he knows, he wishes not to tell her. "You're dead!" she hollers, attempting to push him away, but he dodges her hands. Her eyes widen and tears well in her eyes. Naborin's lips part as she brings a cupped hand to her mouth. "Am I dead?" she asks, her voice a whisper of fear and heart dropping to her gut.

Jericho shakes his head with a gentle look. "No," he answers. "You are alive and well."

"Does that mean you are too?" she enquires, her eyes still like saucers. Jericho stays silent. He stands from the ground and looks over the cavern's edge, the red brown of the rock glaring back at him as if he were trespassing. "Your sister—," Naborin stands from the ground with urgency, "—she'll be so happy, Jericho!" A smile grows on her lips and she begins to laugh. "Impaz won't believe it!"

"Impaz will never know," Jericho says in a calm but stern voice.

"What do you mean?" Naborin straightens her back, her smile gone. Suddenly her hand shoots to her mouth as she lets out a long howl of something between horror and anguish. Her knees buckle and she falls back to the ground while cupping her head in her hands. All this time she had been worried about her own safety, but what about Impaz's? Did she end up following after all? Could she have tumbled to her death? Naborin's sobs turn long and silent, but none the less it draws the attention of the Fallen Skeikah.

"No, no—no!" he says with his head shaking rapidly as he kneels in front of Naborin. "Impaz is fine," he assures, restraining himself from touching the Gerudo.

Naborin wipes her eyes and look into his. "Where is she? Where's Kimble?" She shrugs.

"Off on their own—probably safe too."

"_Probably_?"

Jericho smirks, his eyes wincing. "Considering you were given the Peak Plunge and survived, I would be lying if I said I doubt Kimble and Impaz made it out of their obstacles." Jericho shakes his head. "Enough of this," he says with a smile to gentle the harshness of his words, "we need to get you out of here before Grentwal feels the disturbance." He lowers his eyes. "He hates change..." A low screech hits the cavern walls, shaking the loose rocks free and making bother Jericho and Naborin clasp their ears.

"What was that?"Naborin looks around the cavern and then steps towards the ledge where her plunge was so narrowly escaped.

"If you look at him, you'll stiffen like stone and he'll devour you." Jericho's nostrils flare, his eyes wide and full of fear. "We have to get out of here." Naborin furrows her brow. "We have to leave. Now." Jericho takes a few short steps and then quickens to a run. Naborin takes a moment before following, the temperature in the cavern seemingly rising. She turns to the direction Jericho took off in, and before she leaves, a shadow stretches across the floor and walls.

First, a long neck stretches out, worming its head side to side, then the wings cross over. Though it is only a shadow, it still terrifies Naborin enough to make her run as fast as her legs will allow.

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Impaz shakes her head, a doubtful smile tattooed to her face. "You're dead," she laughs, taking three steps away from the Sage of Shadow. She lowers her head, her shoulders bouncing up and down with each laugh. "My mind is playing tricks on me." Impaz turns back to Impa. "This isn't real," she says. She smacks the side of her head. "I am insane." She lowers her hand and slumps her shoulders, looking to the rocks; her smile and laughter slowly leaving.

Impaz furrows her brow. "This is all because I feel guilty about Jericho, isn't it?" Her eyes fill with despair. "Isn't it?"

Impa coolly brushes something off her shoulder and takes a breath. She rubs the back of her neck. "If this were your mind playing tricks on you, don't you think you would make up a better world for you to live in?" Impa arches a brow and lowers her head. "I know I would."

The Fallen Sheikah chews her lip. "I doubt you would have wanted to see me," Impa continues. "Perhaps your mother or father?"

"Yes," she whispers.

Impa shrugs. "Well, you can't. They're dead and you are alive and well—just as I and the other sages are."

"How?"

"The mirror. Once it was in the Temple of Time. Those of us chosen to be the sages were to walk through the looking glass—though, it was a much prettier place before." Impa shakes her head. "Then one day, a little princess lost her hero. He had won against Ganondorf, freed all of Hyrule—and even stolen the princess' heart." Impa's eyes look out into the trees surrounding the swamp, her mind in another time. "He was sent back to his natural time—seven years prior to defeating the evil lord. He left the people who fostered him, decided to join the king's army. He was even brought up to the ranking of a knight and as the title lost it's meaning to him, the king entitled him a lord." Impa's eyes close. "A lord of no land." She swallows. "Seven years went by in the blink of an eye. The princess was still his one and only love—though the king would not have him marry the girl.

"He took his life." Impa shakes her head with the memory flooding her. "The princess demanded her father to place the young man's body into the mirror. He did as told, but he forbade the child from ever entering to the other side." Impa watches the young Fallen Sheikah. "Years turned to decades and on the day of her father's passing, the newly dubbed queen entered the mirror.

"But what she did not know was that her hero had been brooding in the mirror for all those years. His heart blackened with each passing day, his mind growing darker and body longing to touch the one woman he ever loved in his waking life." Impa takes a shaky breath, her eyebrows furrowed with the same concern she had all those years ago. "The hero had created a new world—one in which he was still a boy and every three days the world would be destroyed, only for him to begin whatever treacherous task he had set for himself." She shivers slightly. "We tried to help, but he could not see us and if he did, he took us on as a form of a mask. We had become invisible to the man who had awakened us.

"The day the princess came into the mirror, the hero was on the third day. Something happened that day and I have every right to believe it was due to him sensing her. The world did not erupt—instead, it went back to how it had been all those years ago. The hero was no longer a scared little boy, but the strong and powerful man he had always been and the princess was back to how he remembered her; young and innocent—how we all remembered her." Impa shrugs. "That is when we knew it was the hero who decided what our world would become. If he was at peace then our would was like that of yours; bright and happy. But if he was upset—if he was remembering some sort of disturbance from his past; it became like this; quiet, dark, and filled with terrible things."

"So this is all caused from him?" Impaz makes a face and crosses her arms.

"Yes."

"Then how do we fix it?"

Impa brushes a hand through her hair and closes her eyes. "In the past, we would send messages to the other side indicating that we needed the princess to come and have a visit with her hero." Impa's eyes watch the girl. "But we all know the princess has been long dead."

"What if we have one of the other princesses come in?" Impaz asks with a shrug.

Impa's lips flatten and her nostril flare for a moment. "You; the keeper of the royal children, you wish to bring them into this damnable place? What happens when they are stuck here just like you and your friends? Do you have any sense of the danger surrounding us?"

"I'm sorry. It was just a suggestion."

"No," Impa says. "I am the one who is sorry." She shakes her head. "We thought of that already. We came to the conclusion that it would do more harm than good to invite one of them. They're too young. They wouldn't understand the situation."

"What if we had Her Grace join us?"

A cool wind blows making the trees stir. "She has her own obligations." Impa begins to pace, her hands clasp together behind her back and her eyes closed. Her feet step on each rock with familiarity, showing just how long she had been in this place. "A new hero was born. He's here, yes?"

Impaz inverts her eyebrows. "Do you mean Kimble?"

"Perhaps." Impa stops in her steps and sighs. "He could put the old hero to rest."

Impaz nods. "How would he do that?"

"The old hero is already preparing him for it."

"You mean the old hero is aware of what he is doing?" Impaz watches as the sage nods her head slowly.

Impa opens her eyes. "This Kimble will need your help—and the other two. They'll be needed just as much." Impa narrows her eyes. "You need to find them and then bring them to me." She looks towards the water. "Whatever you do, do not touch anyone here and don't let them touch anything either. Keep your wits about you, child."

"What do you mean two?" Impaz shakes her head. "There was only one other person with me—unless..." Impaz shakes her head. "The third isn't Princess Daphne, is it?"

Impa shakes her head. Her body begins to fade, her figure translucent like that of a ghost. "You have to go. I must leave you now. Good luck, child."

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**Apologies to those of you who have been waiting with patience that exceed my own.**

**My internet has been non existent for the last while... Long story short, I had some time to write both original and fan based projects. **

**I also had a lot of time to think about where this story is going (i.e. is there going to be a final battle between the hero and Ganondorf, whether or not there will be a plot twist, though this chapter has a bit of one in itself already, and, of course, what all needs to happen in order for a finish to actually be met). **

**For those of you who are hanging on the edge of your seat, or, for those of you reading while perched on a bed with a pillow propping your head, a more accurate description would probably be fighting off the urge to sleep while you attempt to read, though I doubt I have many of those people still reading this, I plan to make this a more regular thing-the posting of chapters that is. Granted, that does not mean this will be updated everyday, but more as a whole; all stories of mine shall be updated with the omission of the parody. That takes a bit to get inspired to write. So, for those of you who enjoy my work, hopefully this pleases you.**

**Also, if I do not hold true to this, you may spam my PM as much as humanly possible. I plan to keep to my word. Enough of the rambling. **

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**Chapter is over, and it is time for you all to really absorb what has gone down.**

**Let it grow in your head until it is something larger than life itself. Think about it, embrace it, and then allow your thoughts to flow onto the keyboard and into the little review box. Questions you have, let me answer as best as I can. Anger towards the sudden disappearences of myself, again, let me answer... let me feel the guilt-if you feel the need.**

**Anyway, as always, reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated. Until we meet again.**


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